


The Thing About Bad Pennies

by CrystallicSky



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Awkwardness, Courtship, Crushes, First Time, Lack of Communication, M/M, Miscommunication, Time Travel, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:58:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 70,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallicSky/pseuds/CrystallicSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They always come back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Jack figured that if there were ever to be one universal constant about him, it was this: no matter what he did, it never turned out the way it was supposed to.  
  
Ever.  
  
For example, that time a couple years back when he’d seriously started feeling the lack of peers in his peculiar circle of ‘evil goth teenaged genius.’ That wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you could just go to a mixer for, so it had seemed totally logical at the time for Jack to build himself a peer—one who shared his style, his intellect, his passion for evil, and most importantly, his goal of taking over the world.  
  
In retrospect, of course… Well.  
  
The less said about the result of _that_ fiasco, the better.  
  
That was hardly an isolated incident, though. Jack was fairly certain he had a chronic case of Murphy’s Law, and just about everything he set out to do ended up veering off in some weird, unexpected direction that he had _not_ seen coming. Robo-Jack, his disastrous attempt at going Xiaolin, and even just two weeks ago when he’d tried to test his prototype teleporter and ended up in Egypt instead of England (and yes, the sunburn had only _just_ gone away). The common factor was Jack trying to do something and by whatever circumstance, screwing it up kinda spectacularly.  
  
When he thought about it that way, his current predicament didn’t seem so surprising.  
  
In his defense, Jack hadn’t even thought spying on the Xiaolin was the kind of endeavor he _could_ screw up, if just because it was so routine for him. He’d been at this Heylin thing for…Jesus, was it really ten years now?  
  
Anyway, you get ten years of practice at something and you tend to get pretty good at it.  
  
Jack was hardly a ninja when it came to stealth, but he was at least confident enough in his skills of sneaking that the thought of creeping around Guan’s temple for intel—without the Shroud of Shadows—didn’t even make him nervous anymore.  
  
Why would it? Unlike the monks who sometimes got a little more aggressive in shooing him off, Guan didn’t see Jack as much of a threat. His version of discipline tended to consist of sternly lecturing him on the dangers of the Heylin and giving him a disturbingly paternal look of disappointment. It was all very ‘concerned high school principal,’ and to a man who’d gotten a college degree after dropping out of the third grade, it was pitifully ineffective; never warranting more than an eyeroll before Jack flew himself out of there.  
  
So, yeah, snooping around Guan’s temple was a cakewalk and inconceivable to screw up, and that was probably why Jack crept in tonight to find the Master Monk apparently performing a ritual to summon Satan.  
  
Okay, maybe not Satan. That would probably require more pentacles and black candles and slaughtered chickens or something, which were thankfully absent here. Still, there _were_ an awful lot of candles and some weird symbols painted on the walls and Guan was chanting in a pretty creepy whisper that sent a shiver up Jack’s spine.  
  
…or maybe not a shiver, Jack amended as the feeling didn’t stop. It was more of a tingle in the air, the kind of subsonic hum that distinguished Xiaolin magic from the hissing crackle of Heylin.  
  
 _Alright, so it’s white magic at least,_ Jack decided, edging closer to the door of the room. _That still doesn’t explain what the hell he’s up to._ He craned his neck to better see past the jamb, hoping he didn’t catch Guan’s attention.  
  
It turned out that he probably didn’t need to worry about being seen, though, not with the intense focus Guan had on the ornamented ritual bowl in front of him. He was putting things in, precisely measuring out powders and liquids like he was the most bizarre chef in the world and this Xiaolin-weirdness-cake had to come out _just_ right—and he had yet to stop that whispery chant he was doing.  
  
Jack listened harder, trying to make it out and he was surprised to realize he understood it.  
  
Well, pieces of it, anyway.  
  
It sounded like Chinese, but in an ancient, almost poetic form that wove together lyrically, rhythmically, and the way Guan was accenting it kind of made Jack’s head hurt, but there were definitely words in it he could understand.  
  
Past. Future. Alter, maybe?  
  
And then Jack went cold because _that_ one wasn’t Chinese and it was a name.  
  
Chase Young.  
  
Son of a bitch.  
  
Naturally, Jack’s first thought was, _Don’t these losers learn **anything**?_ because they already did this. Hell, _everyone_ already did this, because Omi’s totally brilliant, clearly well-thought-out plan to go back to the past and change Chase Young’s future had changed _all_ their futures.  
  
Asking around as slyly as possible, it had turned out that aside from Omi and possibly Chase himself, Jack was the only one who remembered his alternate lives but those memories were seriously not pleasant.  
  
Living on a farm and being _full time good_ was bad enough in its own way, but somehow, the other one was so much worse: where he’d won the world and beaten everyone, but had aged to the point where he’d already been on the verge of losing everything to death by the time Omi showed up to fix his mistake.  
  
There was no way in hell Jack was going through that bullshit again, which meant…  
  
Crap. Jack was gonna have to sabotage this, wasn’t he?  
  
His eyes roved over the room again, hoping to catch a glimpse of somebody else—Master Fung or Dojo, who might try to talk Guan out of this, or the dragons, who might instinctively react to this weird ritual thing and try to stop it.  
  
 _Chase_ would be especially great right now, though it looked like the high and mighty bastard would rather force Jack to be responsible for his problems because he was nowhere in evidence.  
  
An annoying voice in the back of his head derisively called _altruism!_ at this ‘responsibility,’ citing the (embarrassingly) massive torch he still carried for Chase, in spite of eight years of the warlord’s ‘Ice Queen’ routine in return.  
  
Jack forcefully reminded himself that _his_ future was on the line too, and if he did anything now, it would be as much for himself as it would be for Chase.  
  
Although…if Jack was being totally honest with himself, and maybe he could afford that for a second or two, he really didn’t think he _was_ personally okay with the idea of Chase being manipulated against his own innate leanings. It felt a lot like coercion, which was…creepy coming from a Xiaolin monk like Guan.  
  
But when it came down to it, none of that was the issue. The issue was that back in the day, Chase Young had decided he wanted to be Heylin and that decision put a whole lot of other important stuff on course to happen…and now, Guan was trying to screw with it.  
  
Jack frowned, doing one last visual sweep of the room and no, nobody else was showing up which kind of sucked because Jack was not a fan of responsibility. However, he _really_ wasn’t a fan of change when it came to his freaking timeline and if nobody else was going to step up to the plate, he didn’t have much choice in the matter.  
  
Guan’s creepy spell was about to get Jacked.  
  
Of course, Jack’s Universal Constant was still in effect so where it might’ve been nice to have a couple seconds to think of exactly _how_ he was going to interfere, Guan wasn’t giving him that opportunity.  
  
Just one look at the huge ceremonial knife Guan was now pulling out and Jack _knew_ the ritual was coming to a head.  
  
Purely on instinct, Jack acted, running into the room and barreling into Guan’s side.  
  
It was hardly the most effective tactic—Guan was a sturdy guy—but it got him to stagger aside a step or two away from the bowl.  
  
“Spicer!” Guan barked as soon as he realized who had shoved him. “You should not be here!”  
  
“Of course I shouldn’t be,” Jack grunted, still shoving. “You wouldn’t want an audience for screwing up the present!”  
  
Guan refused to be moved any further and his expression went thunderous. “This is something you could never hope to understand,” he said. “Chase Young was once my friend. Simply because you—”  
  
“It’s not about me!” Jack snapped, and shit, maybe there _was_ some altruism going on here, but he really didn’t need to hear where Guan had been going with that one. “Even _I_ figured out that time travel only makes shit worse, but that hasn’t clicked for you, yet?!”  
  
“Spicer,” and now he just looked resigned, “you won’t interfere this time.” He raised the knife in his hand, using the other to push at Jack’s chest. “I will fix my mistakes.”  
  
Guan underestimated the speed of Jack’s reflexes. Jack hadn’t thought that even _reflexively,_ he’d be stupid enough to try and grab the business end of a dagger.  
  
Unfortunately, they were both wrong.  
  
Jack hissed as the sharp metal bit into the flesh of his palm and jerked his hand back fast enough that he watched his blood arc; to Guan’s foot, to the floor.  
  
To the bowl.  
  
Guan seemed to see where the errant droplet had landed, too, and his expression was one of slow-motion horror.  
  
“No,” he breathed. “ _No._ ”  
  
Guan reached for Jack so suddenly that all he could do was flinch back and brace himself for manhandling.  
  
…manhandling that never came, apparently, because Guan was being wrenched viciously back by bronze-clad arms around his torso.  
  
Abruptly, Jack felt a kind of _tug_ in his core, the Xiaolin tingling from before starting to branch out from his spine and he went lightheaded with the innate fear of _what’s happening?_  
  
He vaguely heard a snarl, “ _You_ are the one who won’t interfere, Guan,” but it was fuzzy in the same way his head was going fuzzy and maybe it wasn’t fear doing that, after all…  
  
Jack wobbled on his feet and he looked up, finding that the whole _room_ had started to blur except for a pair of intensely golden eyes that remained in the sharpest clarity.  
  
 _Chase…?_  
  
Without any further hesitation, Jack passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone!
> 
> As always, I felt compelled to have something posted for the holidays, but I had a problem: I couldn't start work on a specifically holiday-themed story because I was (and am!) currently in the middle of writing a massive story on par with the Diary series in eventual length. There's a lot of work to do and I have such a tendency to procrastinate already, I really couldn't afford to distract myself with something else. But I still really wanted to post something around this time of year because what better way to celebrate winter breaks than with Chack?
> 
> So here's my solution! A small chunk of my massive WIP story, so I don't have to start a whole new story and you all can see what I've been working on (and that I have, actually, been working on something)! XD
> 
> Anyway, this story in particular is one that I was inspired to write sometime after I wrote Jelly Bean of my Crayola series, where Jack interacts with a tiny Chase. That idea led to another and another and before I knew it, I'd written an outline for Bad Pennies that tops off at about 40 pages--so yeah, this will definitely be a long one!
> 
> That said, all I ask is that you're patient with me when I (inevitably) take forever to post new chapters and that I hope you enjoy what I've written. :)
> 
> With any luck, 2014 will be a Chack-filled new year! :D


	2. Cherubs and Bandaids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack realizes his situation.

When Jack woke up, he was _awake._ Like, the kind of awake it typically took him three hours and as many cups of coffee to achieve, which was pretty weird.  
  
Also weird was the fact that he was face-down in the dirt which, in spite of popular opinion, was really not his default state.  
  
Then he remembered what he’d been doing before he passed out.  
  
Jack sprung upright, head whipping around in a momentary panic because he’d managed to get himself caught up in a _blood-spell_ and now he was decidedly not where he was; and probably not _when_ he was, either.  
  
Finding no immediate dangers to his well-being, and in fact, no one and nothing at all but this rocky hill he was sitting on, Jack sighed deeply and got to his feet.  
  
Aside from that, though, he had no clue what his next move was here.  
  
Jack didn’t know anything about his location and he didn’t even bother with the GPS in his phone because he didn’t know the date either, but he was reasonably sure he would be some-when before satellites. Even worse, he hadn’t been the one to cast the spell that must’ve brought him here, so he wasn’t exactly privy to the fine print, information like—what was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to go to do it? Would he get back home when he was finished doing…whatever, or did he have to figure out the Go Home ritual for that?  
  
“Suppose it’d be too much to ask to have some kind of step-by-step guide here, right?” he asked of nobody.  
  
Predictably, nobody answered.  
  
Jack sighed again. “Fucking _magic._ ”  
  
He spared a moment to look at his hand, still stinging a bit, but not too badly. Where the blade had sliced into his palm, there was a smear of blood caked onto the calloused skin. The wound itself, though, was small and narrow and had long since stopped bleeding.  
  
How long had he been knocked out, anyway?  
  
“…probably stupid to worry about losing time when you’re a goddamn time-traveler,” Jack muttered to himself and decided to put it out of his mind.  
  
It was probably more important that he do something about his cut because if he was going to die somehow in the distant past, it would be because of dinosaurs or some ancient, fearsome army, _not_ Ye Olde Bacterial Infection.  
  
Luckily, Jack happened to be a goddamn expert at getting himself in and out of these situations, so he always carried some basic first aid stuff in one of the dozens of pockets of his trench coat.  
  
 _Badass **and** practical,_ he thought proudly. _‘Fashion disaster.’ Pfft. Kimiko would eat her words if she were here!_  
  
Jack unzipped his coat and began gingerly flaking off the dried blood when his efforts to remember exactly _which_ pocket he kept the antiseptic in started taking a little longer than he thought it would (and fine, maybe it was better that Kimiko wasn’t here for this).  
  
His thinking slowly ground to a halt, though, when he realized he was hearing something besides the distant chirping of birds.  
  
Sniffling. Another _person._  
  
 _Well, that’s probably a start._  
  
Jack began making his way down the hill, _slowly_ when his attempt at doing it quickly almost landed him on his face in the dirt again.  
  
This was quite possibly the rockiest damn hill he’d ever seen. It would probably be cordoned off as a serious safety hazard if…whatever time this was…had public safety committees and such. A kid could get seriously hurt screwing around on this thing!  
  
…which, as Jack came upon a little boy at the base of a hill, clutching his knee and (by the look of his shaking shoulders) holding back tears, was exactly what had happened.  
  
Jack’s first thought was to be impressed. He knew all too well that skinned knees hurt like a _bitch,_ but this kid wasn’t even crying. Sniffling a little, sure, but for that to be _all,_ he was a tough little jerk. He was even refraining from that horrific wailing sound unique to toddlers everywhere, the one that made Jack recoil in terror from the thought of ever reproducing, yet he couldn’t have been any older than three.  
  
Jack’s second thought came a moment later when the weight of his boot dislodged a pebble from the hill and the clatter it made drew the kid’s attention right to him, and that thought was, _…oh. Shit._  
  
He knew that face.  
  
It was considerably more cherubic than the last time he’d seen it, with wider eyes and more baby-fat and a pointed lack of the expression that haughtily proclaimed, ‘I am a totally impassive enigma of a warlord and you have no hope of discovering what I am thinking right at this moment,’ but it was too similar for it to be mere coincidence.  
  
Jack was looking right at a three-year-old Chase Young, wasn’t he?  
  
Shelving the question of why the hell Guan would’ve wanted to come back to when Chase was a toddler (which only got more disturbing the more he thought about it), Jack figured he should deal with the more pressing issue of said toddler staring at him looking startled and upset and confused.  
  
“Hey,” he said gently, awkwardly as he moved a little closer. “Are you okay?”  
  
The miniature Chase— _the Chaseling,_ Jack decided to call him for now— didn’t answer him, but he did tense up pretty fiercely. Apparently, his parents hadn’t taught him not to play around hazardous hills, but they _had_ managed to impart Stranger Danger.  
  
Great.  
  
“I’m not…I won’t hurt you,” Jack tried lamely, “just…you’re hurt already, aren’t you?”  
  
Jack watched his eyes flicker to his scraped knee. Clutching it closer to himself, the Chaseling bit his lip and silently pouted up at him.  
  
…Jack thought he might’ve given himself diabetes just _thinking_ that sentence.  
  
Trying for a smile that he hoped in no way looked violent or otherwise pedophilic, he knelt down to be more on the kid’s level. “Hey, it’s fine. That stuff happens. See?” He held his hand out palm up, showing off the small wound. “I hurt myself a little, too.”  
  
The Chaseling craned his neck to see, but pointedly did not scoot any closer. That was fine. Kids were entitled to a bit of wariness around strange men two decades their senior and Jack saw no reason to get offended by it.  
  
“I was just about to take care of it,” he tried, sitting all the way down and reaching into his jacket. “Maybe you can watch me fix mine and then I can fix yours?”  
  
Jack may have smirked a little as the Chaseling chose to maintain his silence, but his face was already starting to ease out of its pout, looking more curious than wary.  
  
Now that he actually had need of it, Jack had no trouble remembering where the antiseptic wipes were and he fished out a packet on the first try. He keenly felt the kid’s eyes on him as he tore it open with his teeth and used the damp sheet to clean the dried blood from the cut.  
  
It stung, of course, but Jack very purposefully did not wince. The last thing he needed was to make the kid gun-shy and then have that little scrape of his get infected or something.  
  
Balling up the wipe and stowing it in a different pocket, Jack brought out the spray-on bandaid next.  
  
There was a story behind that—one that Jack planned on telling to absolutely no one in any detail, but it involved an unreasonable number of adhesive bandaids at once and the fact that his skin was already _way_ too sensitive for his own good without bits of latex-y fabric trying to peel it off in strips.  
  
Ultimately, the whimpering alone had been so deeply humiliating that Jack had made a solemn vow to never fuck around with adhesive bandaids again. He lived in the 2000s, anyway, so he was well within his rights (and probably even a little obligated!) to make use of advances in medical technology and what could be more futuristic and convenient than painless, spray-on bandaids?  
  
The spray-on kind of bandaid was obviously better at impressing Chaselings, too, because the wide-eyed look on the kid’s face as the mist sprayed out onto Jack’s palm could really only be called _wonder._  
  
Jack blew on the wet spot a moment or two before touching it lightly with his thumb to be sure it had dried. Then he offered it back out to the Chaseling.  
  
“It’s all better now,” he said. “Didn’t even hurt.”  
  
Jack almost felt like he was trying to make friends with a shy woodland creature as he held his hand perfectly still for the kid’s inspection. The Chaseling actually leaned forward this time and reached out to touch, his tiny fingertips brushing against the unfamiliar texture on Jack’s palm.  
  
“Awesome, right?” Jack had to physically hold back a snicker at the small Chase’s reverent nod, reminding himself that if Chase was _this_ young, it would be more than a millennium before that word gained its modern connotation—for now, it literally just meant ‘inspiring awe.’ “Do you want me to help you with yours now?”  
  
The boy hesitated a moment, probably remembering whatever he’d been told about strangers, but he eventually nodded again, looking resolved.  
  
Jack wondered if it were possible to get double-diabetes, because a _resolved-looking three-year-old,_ Jesus Christ.  
  
Now that he had permission, though, Jack wrapped his hand around one bony little shin to hold Chase’s leg. Finding another antiseptic wipe, he went about cleaning the dirt and gravel from the scrape.  
  
Chase hissed at the sting and automatically jerked back, but Jack’s grip held steady. He would willingly admit that he wasn’t stronger than a lot of things, but he _was_ stronger than a freaking toddler, thank you very much.  
  
“Yeah, it stings a little,” he said out loud. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t last long.”  
  
The Chaseling had the audacity to look vaguely betrayed that Jack hadn’t warned him, but he nonetheless proved himself to be the kid that grew up into one of the toughest fuckers Jack had ever met by then just stoically enduring the disinfecting.  
  
Jack experienced a confusing moment of pride in him for that, confusing because, _He’s not even my kid! What the hell?_  
  
Jack shook it off and sprayed on the liquid bandaid (which Jack knew for a fact didn’t hurt!) before leaning in to blow it dry a couple seconds quicker.  
  
Satisfied, Jack sat back on his heels and stowed his medical supplies back in his coat. “There,” he proclaimed. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”  
  
The kid blinked at his knee, running his fingers over the protective coating. His expression wavered between amazement and relief for awhile before settling on pure glee and the thrilled grin he gave Jack was almost blinding in its intensity.  
  
Hard to believe that the Heylin prince of darkness had ever been capable of such an innocent smile, but Jack supposed everyone had to start _somewhere._  
  
He reflexively smiled back, but that totally guileless grin was a reminder to Jack—if just by sheer contrast—that the Chaseling _actually was_ Chase Young, and would someday grow up to be him.  
  
The very same Chase Young who was a totally gorgeous master of evil, who’d years ago triggered Jack’s questioning of his own sexuality, and who even now, still regularly forced him to retreat to his bunk with his unfair displays of masculine grace and power.  
  
And he was currently a toddler with a skinned knee and a happy-go-lucky smile.  
  
Jesus, talk about awkward. Jack barely knew what to say to the sexy, cool, and confident Chase of his time and now that he was in the situation, he was pretty sure he had even _less_ idea what to talk about with the fun-sized version.  
  
So, yeah: _awkward._  
  
Thankfully, sheer lucky happenstance saved him from having to hold a conversation with the kid. A voice suddenly called out in the otherwise quiet of the still afternoon, making Chase’s head swing around in what could only be recognition.  
  
“Chenglei!”  
  
Jack sprung back to his feet and the Chaseling— Chenglei?—followed suit with a confused look at him.  
  
Jack didn’t address it. Instead, he gave a clumsy pat to the boy’s dark-haired head and an equally clumsy, “You did good, kid, very brave,” before walking off in the opposite direction of the voice as quickly as his legs would carry him.  
  
He had no idea what the punishment for suspected pedophiles was in this day and age, but he was willing to bet it was _unpleasant._ No matter who was coming, it probably wouldn’t do to be caught alone with a kid that young and Jack wasn’t about to sit around when there was the entirely likely possibility of getting busted for shit he didn’t (would fucking _never,_ he’s evil, not _sick_ ) do.  
  
Of course, when he’d made it a respectable distance away, Jack couldn’t resist a backwards glance.  
  
Another boy was scurrying up to meet Cha— _Chenglei,_ with still no adults in sight, about the same size and probably the same age. His golden complexion and his bald head put Jack strongly in mind of Omi, but his expression, relief thickly covered by an easygoing grin reminded him a little more of…  
  
Holy shit.  
  
 _Grand Master Dashi._ Chase Young had been _childhood friends_ with Grand Master Dashi?!  
  
 _Wow,_ Jack thought, _you think you qualify as a guy’s number one fan…_  
  
Nonetheless, he kept right on walking until he was sure he was out of sight as something foreboding began to dawn on him.  
  
He was still here.  
  
In spite of the fact that he’d now interacted with the younger Chase, presumably done something to alter the future—or maybe ensured that the future _wasn’t_ altered? Time travel was way too goddamn complicated, even for a literal genius like Jack.  
  
Anyway, nothing was happening and Jack was still here, somewhere in…shit, probably about 6th century China, Chase was no spring chicken, and there was absolutely no magical tingly whatever happening to bring him back to his own time.  
  
Jack slowed to a stop and breathed in silence for a few long moments before swearing loudly enough to startle a nearby, weird-looking bird.  
  
Very quickly, though, he reined himself back in to a state of relative calm. Getting pissed off (however extremely fucking appropriate it was) wouldn’t help anything. As much as he’d dearly love to go find Guan and beat the snot out of him for apparently stranding him here, Guan wouldn’t even be Guan yet; he was probably barely out of diapers and maybe hitting kids wasn’t as bad as touching them, but Jack was entirely sure that neither of those things were him.  
  
Clearly, it was time for Jack to make another solemn vow to himself, instead.  
  
Deciding very _firmly_ to stay calm and refrain from totally losing his shit until tomorrow morning at the earliest, Jack devised himself a game plan.  
  
A passing glance at the sky where the sun was beginning to set was enough to tell him that night was falling. The current time period being approximately forever before the advent of electricity, the whole day was basically over. In another hour or so, which would probably be how long it would take Jack to locate civilization, everybody who might conceivably offer food and shelter to a weird-looking stranger would be asleep.  
  
So Jack would be roughing it tonight. Awesome.  
  
He briefly spared a thought to building himself some kind of shelter, but even with a flashlight (which he had, his pockets were _useful,_ okay?), it would be unnecessarily difficult trying to throw something together at night. The same held true for any attempts at foraging for food and water.  
  
Jack sighed and found the nicest looking spot of the clearing he was standing in and sat down. Hungry and with a bit of trial and error, he found a granola bar inside his coat and munched on it awhile.  
  
Naturally, he was hardly tired—he’d pretty much just woken up, after all—but boredom was a powerful motivator for drowsiness.  
  
Upon finishing the granola bar, Jack laid back in the grass and watched the stars in the amazingly clear night sky until he eventually dozed off.


	3. Lies and Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack really hates his life.

Jack blinked and was more than a little disoriented to find himself fully upright beside a creek in broad daylight, with a tingling sensation fading out of his spine.  
  
This was, indeed, disorienting because Jack physically could not have slept for more than an hour or two and he had never sleepwalked in his life, but there was Xiaolin magic lingering in his bones and morning had apparently come and taken him somewhere decidedly different from where he’d fallen asleep.  
  
“What the fuck _now_?” he couldn’t help but blurt out.  
  
There was a subtle rustle of cloth at that, and Jack knew before he even looked that he had attracted someone’s attention.  
  
He turned to see a lone figure sitting beside the creek, small and appearing even smaller with his knees pulled up to his chest in the universal pose of contemplative angst. The boy was looking at Jack with suspicion and…oh.  
  
Even twisted in wariness, rounded a little less with baby fat than the three-year-old version, that face was unmistakably Chase’s…or rather, Chenglei’s.  
  
Jack, legitimately a genius, didn’t need more than the second it took to recognize the kid to piece together what had just happened to him: he’d jumped forward in time.  
  
 _Nowhere near far enough,_ Jack thought wryly, because Chenglei was still pretty little and probably hadn’t even hit puberty yet, but Jack figured a guy in his position kind of had to take what he could get.  
  
Since Chenglei was still glaring at him, looking prepared to sprint the hell out of there at any wrong move on Jack’s part, Jack raised his hands and once again adopted the look that (he hoped) conveyed a total lack of ill intentions on his part.  
  
“Hey,” he said, edging a little closer, “I’m not gonna do anything, just…is it okay if I sit here?”  
  
Chenglei just continued watching him silently, long enough that Jack almost started to wonder if the kid might actually be mute or deaf.  
  
But then, he spoke. “You can sit.” Alright, not very much, but it was _something,_ and more importantly, it was the first voice besides his own that Jack had heard in…some unknowable period. (Seriously, fucking time travel.)  
  
Still, it was amazing the way something as little as deprivation could break down social barriers, totally bypassing the awkward hesitation caused by things as trivial as, ‘what the hell do you even _say_ to a mini-Chase Young?’  
  
Now undaunted by that question, Jack came forward to a respectable distance from the kid and sat down next to the creek. Turning to him with a grin, he cheerfully declared, “I’m Jack, by the way.”  
  
As expected, the boy took that as his cue to reciprocate the introduction. “My name is Chenglei,” he said simply, and even as a child, it looked like Chase was the kind of guy who liked to be concise; no words wasted, unlike Jack who was, admittedly, prone to babbling.  
  
Both these facts were proved immediately as Jack replied, “Great, it’s good to meet you, Chenglei. Y’know, that’s a good name, it really suits you,” and unhesitatingly, Chenglei cut him off with a direct question.  
  
“Why are you following me?”  
  
Jack…blinked. “What?”  
  
Chenglei gave him the suspicious look again, like he was trying to figure out precisely how full of shit Jack was. Slowly, he confessed, “I remember you…from before.”  
  
Jack didn’t follow until the boy made a vague gesture to his knee; scraped and raw the last time Jack had seen it, and now entirely healed without so much as a scar.  
  
“Oh! _Before,_ ” he realized with a wince. If ever there was a time to curse the strikingly unique looks that made Jack so very unforgettable, it was now. In retrospect, it was definitely too much to hope for that he was nondescript enough to have faded from somebody’s memory, even a three-year-old’s.  
  
“You were there,” said Chenglei, “and now you’re here. Why?”  
  
If Jack was cursing his looks, he was thanking all the evil deities for his natural ability to think on his feet because he didn’t trip over a single word as he answered, “Well…if you must know,” pausing to lean in and conspiratorially whisper, “I’m your guardian spirit.”  
  
It was one of the hardest things Jack had ever done to _not_ laugh at the hugely wide-eyed look Chenglei gave him. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jack said, glossing over the _before_ and the _now_ in his head before coming up with a plausible theory. “See, I’m duty-bound to show up whenever you really need some help. Like back then, when you were hurt and nobody else was around.”  
  
Of course, Jack himself had no way to confirm _or_ deny this, but as far as off-the-cuff theories about Xiaolin time-travel spells went, it seemed as good as any other.  
  
After all, somebody Xiaolin seeking to change the past without the Sands of Time, like Guan, would never do it by using honest coercion. That’d be too Heylin. Instead, he’d probably do it by continually showing up in somebody’s hour of need and being aggressively helpful, ensuring that the person in question would never come into circumstances that would make joining the Heylin their best option.  
  
It looked benevolent enough on the surface, but Jack saw deeper—if Guan _had_ been the one to come back like he was supposed to, it could easily end up creating a deeply subconscious sense of gratitude towards the Master Monk in the back of Chenglei’s impressionable little mind, one that obviously (judging by Chase’s future relationship with Guan) hadn’t been there originally.  
  
If that happened, Chenglei would be a lot more conflicted when the moment of his Big Choice came; might hesitate a little more to defy the Xiaolin and everything his childhood savior stood for, and perhaps might not have been able to go through with it at all, no matter how much he wanted to.  
  
Inject an unconscious feeling of debt into a kid’s head and just wait for him to grow up and settle for a life he didn’t want because of it: easy as that, no dirty hands necessary.  
  
 _The sheer hypocrisy of ‘good guys’ sometimes, I swear,_ Jack thought, just barely refraining from shaking his head.  
  
That kind of convoluted, ‘road to hell’ brainwashing was definitely _not_ how Jack was gonna play this. He probably _had_ to help Chenglei with…whatever kid-problems he was dealing with, or else he wouldn’t be able to take another jump through time, but that didn’t mean he had to be leading about it. Jack could totally stay aloof enough to help and still let Chenglei make his own damn decisions in life!  
  
…Probably. Not like Jack had much choice but to try, either way.  
  
“I didn’t mean to scare you that I was following you earlier,” he said, apologetically as he could manage. “It’s just, you’re my charge, so I _have_ to follow you, but I promise not to come out of nowhere unless you really need me. Okay?”  
  
A modern kid would’ve been screaming for police or something by now, but this was roughly the fourth century and superstitions were rampant everywhere, so Chenglei just gave him another once-over—lingering at his pale skin and sunset hair and vividly _red_ eyes— and nodded in acceptance of the fact that Jack was a spirit.  
  
Maybe Jack should be thanking the evil deities for his bizarre looks, after all.  
  
Still, with the whole ‘guardian’ lie established, Jack now had a perfect opener into the conversation.  
  
“So,” he asked, “what am I here for today?”  
  
Chenglei stared at him.  
  
“Well, I gotta be here for something,” Jack elaborated. “I don’t show up unless something’s wrong.”  
  
Chenglei’s frown was verging on a pout, and even though he was older now, it was no less painfully cute than it was at age three. “Nothing’s wrong,” he murmured.  
  
Naturally, Jack was not convinced. “Really? You can’t think of any reason I might be here?”  
  
Tellingly, Chenglei’s chin dropped to rest on his upraised knees and he avoided Jack’s eyes. Jack decided to roll with the hint.  
  
“You looked pretty sad earlier,” he said casually. “You look kinda sad now, too.”  
  
Now, it was _definitely_ a pout, but the kid wasn’t denying it.  
  
He hunched forward, clutching his legs a little tighter to his chest and spent another long moment or two in silence.  
  
Jack waited it out and sure enough, Chenglei spoke up again.  
  
Quietly, partially muffled by his knees, he mumbled, “Dashi doesn’t like me anymore.”  
  
Jack frowned. “Dashi?”  
  
“My brother,” the boy clarified.  
  
It was a near thing, but Jack’s jaw did _not_ drop. _They’re motherfucking **brothers**?!_  
  
Jack got a hold of himself as quickly as he was able, covering his surprise with a cool, “Why do you think he doesn’t like you?”  
  
Chenglei frowned back at him. “Because he doesn’t.”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” said Jack, “but why? Did he say that to you?” Because if he did, mini-Dashi was a _jerk._  
  
Apparently, not quite that much of one, though, because Chenglei hesitated. “No… He didn’t _say_ it, but…”  
  
He trailed off again, so Jack prompted, “But what?”  
  
“He’s not _around_ anymore.”  
  
Jack tried to translate that terribly vague statement. “Did he go somewhere, or…?”  
  
“No,” Chenglei said, looking frustrated.  
  
Jack was starting to know the feeling just trying to figure out the Chaseling’s malfunction. Nobody’d ever told him that having a heart-to-heart with a little kid would be like pulling teeth.  
  
“We’re _twins,_ ” Chenglei emphasized eventually, like that was supposed to mean something by itself. Thankfully, Jack didn’t have to ask him to explain this time and he continued on his own, “We’re always _together_ and now we’re just…not.”  
  
Okay, that at least gave Jack a ballpark. “So, he’s not hanging out with you so much these days. Maybe his day-planner’s full.”  
  
Naturally, Chenglei stared at him, totally baffled, and Jack was reminded to adapt his language for the era. “If he’s not spending time with you, maybe he’s spending it on something else. Do your parents have you guys doing chores?”  
  
“Yes, but…” The boy hesitated, but the theory must not have held much merit for Chenglei because he discarded it almost immediately. “That’s not it,” he said with conviction. “Dashi doesn’t even _do_ his chores.”  
  
 _Lazy,_ Jack thought. _That sounds about right._  
  
“Alright, so what _does_ he do, then?” Jack asked.  
  
As it turned out, Chenglei’s little face could make even ugly expressions moderately adorable: Jack had never seen a jealous scowl cuter than the one currently drifting across the boy’s face.  
  
But he knew without even having to ask why it was there.  
  
“He goes off to play with the other village boys, doesn’t he?”  
  
Chenglei only nodded.  
  
Rejection. Damn, did Jack know _that_ fucking awful feeling. Before he could stop himself, he muttered, “Asshat,” under his breath.  
  
Chenglei caught it anyway and stared at him again in a total lack of comprehension.  
  
Jack very pointedly did not explain this time. “So, what,” he went with instead, “your brother’s just ditching you to be with his new friends?” The kid nodded again. “And what do you do?”  
  
Chenglei’s badly hidden flinch told Jack everything he needed to know.  
  
“Kid,” Jack proclaimed, “your brother is a…” He checked himself, moderated for his audience. “Your brother…is insensitive and inconsiderate.”  
  
It was only a little bit of a surprise for Jack to see yet another thing he knew unfortunately well—inexplicable family loyalty. “He’s not,” Chenglei said, immediately jumping to his brother’s defense. “He’s great! Dashi is amazing. That’s why he has so many friends.”  
  
Jack knew better than to try and derail that kind of attachment. It just went too damn deep. As much as he knew his parents had made some terrible choices—and they had, they were pretty damn awful parents—Jack had never been able to truly condemn them. They were his _parents._  
  
And Dashi was Chenglei’s _brother._  
  
This probably called for a different tack.  
  
“I’m sure he is amazing,” Jack conceded, not even with condescension because this kid’s brother was going to grow up and become a _Grand Master_ and create the _Shen Gong Wu._ “What about you, though?”  
  
“Me?” It was exceedingly obvious that no one had ever asked Chenglei this question before, but to his credit, he gave it his best consideration. “I’m…happy. That he’s popular. It’s good that everyone can see how amazing he is.”  
  
“Sure,” said Jack. “And?”  
  
“…and?” Chenglei echoed with clear confusion.  
  
“And what else?” Jack wondered. “Nobody feels just one way about something. People have lots of feelings all at the same time, sometimes even when they don’t make sense together. You can be happy that Dashi’s got friends, _and…_ ”  
  
Jack could actually _see_ the epiphany happening in Chenglei’s head. It took him a little bit to say it, and when he did, it was cautious like he was expecting to be chastised, but he slowly admitted, “And…I’m mad that Dashi’s friends made him forget about me.”  
  
Trying his utmost to radiate ‘no judgment,’ Jack nodded as encouragingly as he could.  
  
Emboldened, Chenglei continued. “Our parents have to work in the field all day,” he said, “so they don’t have time to coddle us, and that was okay because me and Dashi had each other, but now…”  
  
“He’s got other friends and you’ve got no one?” Jack guessed.  
  
“Exactly!” the boy exclaimed, clearly excited that Jack was _getting_ it, now. “And I can’t go with them because I’m not…they don’t like me, I’m not good enough, and maybe if I was, Dashi wouldn’t have left in the first place.”  
  
There was an almost physical twinge in Jack’s chest at that oh-so-familiar ‘not good enough’ and he wondered why he’d never realized before how much he and Chase had in common. It was easy to focus on the differences— Chase was powerful and gorgeous and skilled beyond belief and Jack was really…none of those things.  
  
But the foundation Chase had apparently started with was shaping up to be eerily similar to Jack’s own: abandonment issues, feelings of inadequacy, hadal-zone-low self-esteem…  
  
If the next thing out of Chenglei’s mouth was that he wanted to take over the world to prove everybody wrong, Jack was gonna _freak._  
  
Jack wasn’t sure if he was relieved or dismayed that instead, Chenglei looked up at him with eyes that would put a puppy to shame and asked, “Is that… _can_ you help me?”  
  
Luckily, Jack himself had been in the kid’s shoes many a time, so he had a pretty good idea of how to answer that.  
  
Or at least a good idea of what he wished somebody’d told him back then.  
  
“I’m not really supposed to do this,” he said magnanimously, glancing around like he was making sure they were alone. “But if you promise not to tell, I think I can let you in on another secret; something that might make your situation a little easier.”  
  
Chenglei’s knees came away from his chest, folding under him as he sat up and leaned over to Jack. “I won’t tell,” he swore solemnly. “What is it?”  
  
Jack leaned in, too, unable to keep the smirk off his face. “You,” he said gravely, “have a _destiny._ ”  
  
The kid’s eyes went wide. “I do?”  
  
“Sure,” Jack shrugged. “Are you really that surprised? Your brother’s not the only one who’s amazing, y’know. You’ve got a whole grand future ahead of you.”  
  
Chenglei sat back in amazement. “I’m going to be amazing someday?”  
  
“You’re amazing _now,_ ” Jack corrected, “and you’re only gonna get better.”  
  
Chenglei frowned, shaking his head. “I’m…I’m nothing special…”  
  
“Oh, no?” Jack challenged, raising his eyebrows. “If that’s true, how come you’re the only one anywhere _near_ your tiny village who has a guardian spirit?”  
  
“I am?”  
  
Jack scoffed. “Yeah, you are, kid. Only the ones with _really_ great destinies get guardian spirits. Not even Dashi has one, but you do.”  
  
Being a child, and naturally kind of gullible like children are, Chenglei seemed to be buying it hook, line, and sinker.  
  
“I’m really going to be that great?” he asked, excitement overtaking the doubt in his tone. “Better than Dashi?”  
  
“ _Much_ better than Dashi,” Jack agreed. Playfully, he nudged the boy with his elbow. “How do you think you got your name? It’s not just coincidence that it means ‘become great,’ kid—that’s your destiny.”  
  
Chenglei was grinning broadly, not as wholly sweet and innocent as his three-year-old self was capable of, but the kind of unadulterated enthusiasm that would be more than a little disturbing for the fully-adult Chase Young.  
  
“Basically,” Jack said airily, “what I’m trying to say is, don’t let those dumb kids get to you, and don’t let it bug you so much if even your brother doesn’t feel like making time for you. They just can’t see how awesome you’re going to be and don’t know any better yet.”  
  
Chenglei nodded with a regal gravity betrayed only by the smile on his face. “I can’t hold that against them. They’ll see the truth later.” His expression faltered a second and he turned to Jack, “They _will_ see, won’t they?”  
  
“Of course they will,” Jack happily agreed, “so you don’t need to get anxious that nobody’s paying attention to you just yet. They will, soon enough.”  
  
Chenglei sprung to his feet, like he couldn’t bear to sit still a second longer. “I have a destiny!” he laughed. “I’m going to be great!”  
  
Jack remained seated beside the creek, angling his head to meet Chenglei’s eyes. “You’re damn right you are,” he said firmly. “Now, quit your moping around here and go forth and conquer or something.”  
  
Chenglei bounced on the balls of his little feet and was off running almost before Jack saw him move. As he scampered away—in the way that Jack had only seen kids manage when just shy of a caffeine or sugar overdose—he called back, “Thank you, Jack!” and was gone.  
  
Jack couldn’t have held back his chuckle if he’d been paid to. To himself, he muttered, “Kid’s polite, at least, I’ll give him that.”  
  
He took a deep breath and released it slowly. That…had gone well. He thought.  
  
He’d managed to cheer Chenglei up (obviously), and as far as Jack could tell, he’d done it without being manipulative and leading.  
  
He worried for a second that what he’d said about the kid’s destiny had been a little too on the nose, but he shrugged it off quick enough. He’d been pretty damn vague about the whole ‘become great’ thing and hadn’t steered the boy towards becoming a great good _or_ evil.  
  
As long as Jack stayed detached from that part, it would be totally up to Chenglei’s own innate leanings as to which category he fell into.  
  
From what he’d heard today, though, he wasn’t all that concerned that Chenglei might go on to pick the Xiaolin.  
  
 _Childhood neglect and feeling like nobody thinks you’re good enough: that describes, what, three-fourths of the Heylin?_ Jack shook his head. And Jesus, even at…five? Six? Chase was already spouting some serious super-villain shit. _‘They’ll all see’? I’m not even sure Guan would’ve had a chance here, this kid is headed **Dark Side**._  
  
If he didn’t know the man this kid was going to grow up to be—the Chase Young who was so clearly comfortable being evil and excelled at it like no one except maybe Hannibal Bean—Jack might’ve felt vaguely, abstractly guilty for doing absolutely nothing to stop it.  
  
As it was…nope, not even a shred of guilt.  
  
Jack shrugged it off and got to his feet, stretching briefly while he contemplated his situation of Annoying Time Travel Fuckery.  
  
What he’d told Chenglei about the where and when he was showing up was probably true and it was also the best theory Jack could come up with on the two examples he’d gotten so far.  
  
Kid gets a boo-boo that could get infected and has nobody around to help with it? Jack shows up. Kid’s struggling with abandonment and other such blows to his self-esteem? Send in the expert; Jack Spicer, ladies and gentlemen. There was only the one common thread between those, and Jack’s inner scientist winced to even _call_ it a theory, but his practical side knew it was the best he was going to get until he Time Jumped again and gathered some more data.  
  
Speaking of, the Time Jumps themselves were calling for a theory because Jack still had no concrete idea of when and why they happened.  
  
This crappy spell was nothing like Quantum Leap: Jack wasn’t Jumping immediately after he interacted with Chase’s younger self and (presumably) did what he was supposed to do, but…maybe the spell wasn’t strong enough for that?  
  
That could make sense. The Sands of Time was one of the most powerful Shen Gong Wu in existence, which stood to reason that it ran on some seriously powerful Xiaolin magic but Dashi had been kinda renowned as a prodigy, hadn’t he?  
  
Guan was good, too, but he was no _Grand Master._ It was totally possible that he just didn’t have enough juice to kick-start an _active_ time-travel spell and the one Jack had gotten caught up in was a _passive_ spell.  
  
Come to think of it, Jack had been asleep both times he’d Jumped.  
  
…Alright, fine, he’d been more knocked out for that first one, but unconscious was unconscious! Jack had been hanging out with enough witches and sorcerers of black and white magic alike to have picked up that the unconscious mind—especially in dreamstates—had a lot of mystic potential.  
  
Possibly relevant here was the fact that Jack was used to having extremely vivid dreams, and yet these last two times, there’d been nothing but a blank. Just drifting off and then suddenly being awake in another freaking time period.  
  
 _Alright,_ Jack thought slowly, _so, whenever I go to sleep after doing something in the past, the spell…leeches off my brain-energy to shoot me forward to the next thing?_  
  
As before, he had no way to know how right he was, or if he were even remotely in the neighborhood of correct. Knowing it wasn’t the first time and would probably not be the last, Jack vigorously cussed Guan out in his head for not having sent him to the past with a warning or a piece of advice or a goddamn pamphlet or _something._  
  
But once again, this was not a productive avenue, however cathartic it was.  
  
What would be productive would be to find himself some food, because his stomach was starting to growl. Jack had never been able to sleep hungry and sleep was very much the goal here if he ever wanted to test that theory of his.  
  
Unfortunately, Jack tended to only carry one emergency granola bar on him at a time, and he’d obviously exhausted _that_ particular resource. As he saw it, that left him with two options.  
  
Option One would be to head in the direction Chenglei had run off to and try to mooch off some random village folk. That would likely be…problematic.  
  
For one thing, a goth albino from the future would attract a lot of attention; too _much_ attention and inevitably, all the local kiddies would be drawn to see what all the fuss was about and there was no _way_ little Chenglei would be shrewd enough to pretend not to know Jack.  
  
Out of context, that whole ‘guardian spirit’ thing sounded more than a little fishy and Jack had never been so concerned about being mistaken for a pedophile in his _life,_ but wow, being in a day and age where it was totally cool to publicly execute people on minimal evidence really raised the stakes on that particular misconception.  
  
So, Chenglei’s village was out. That left Option Two.  
  
Jack had to forage in the goddamn wilderness for nuts and berries and shit.  
  
He spared a glance to the creek he was standing besides, spying a shimmer of scales beneath the surface and considered a more palatable fish-dinner instead…  
  
For about three seconds.  
  
Jack _knew_ he wouldn’t be able to catch a fish by hand and trying would only leave him cold, wet, and frustrated beyond belief, and then it’d be hours before he managed to get any sleep. Plus, if he somehow defied all odds and caught one, then he’d have to figure out how to scale it and gut it and cook it, and that last part would probably necessitate making a fire, and goddammit, that was just too much trouble for what would (hopefully) be a brief stay here.  
  
Nuts and berries, it was.  
  
Sighing the sigh of the greatly put upon, Jack trudged off in search of suitable plants, once more giving thanks to the various gods of evil that he’d at least paid attention to the textbook part of that wilderness survival class his mom forced him into, one of many he’d been pressured to take shortly after he dropped out of the regular schooling system.  
  
Unlike the class itself, where the teacher had been perky early enough in the morning to warrant a stabbing and his classmates had been young adults who patronized the hell out of the ‘adorable little boy who wanted to go camping with mommy,’ the book had been informative. Jack certainly remembered enough to be able to figure out what would be safe to eat and what wouldn’t be.  
  
Still, that didn’t mean he had to like it and like the spoiled trust-fund kid with delusions of grandeur he gladly admitted he was, Jack positively resented having to _forage_ down to his bones.  
  
He huffed out another sigh and hoped an utterly futile hope— that the Chase of his future would someday appreciate the absolute _bullshit_ Jack was suffering through for his sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm aiming to do all future posting for this story in threes, this concludes the current round. More will be forthcoming, but for your own sake, expect delays. ^^;


	4. Tweens and Headaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack is very, very frustrated.

  
_Theory confirmed,_ Jack thought as he stumbled back into the timestream from yet another empty sleep.

Or that’s what he might’ve thought if his stumbling hadn’t been literal, leaving him wobbling on an uneven slope of ground and flailing his arms in a frantic attempt to regain balance for a long, adrenaline-drenched moment.

When the catastrophe was avoided, Jack cast a brief glance around to find no one in sight and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank god the kid’s an antisocial loner,” he quipped, “or else somebody might’ve seen that.”

Of course, this was something of an oversight on Jack’s part. Simply the fact that he was in this place and time meant that at least one person would’ve seen him.

As it turned out, that person had heard him, too, if the scoff of, “At least I was raised to have more manners than a common _beast,_ ” was any indication.

The voice was still just a pitch or two higher than he was used to, but it was so startlingly similar (especially the haughty sneer in it) that Jack’s spine automatically straightened as he turned to look.

Jack’s Jump seemed to have been a little bigger than his last, because the Chenglei glaring at him was by no stretch of the imagination a little boy. He’d put on some height, lost some more baby-fat, and developed sharper facial features, the overall effect being that he looked more like Chase Young than any other version of Chenglei that Jack had seen so far—and god, _especially_ so with that pissed off face he was wearing.

The differences were still obvious, though. Chenglei was considerably shorter than the height he would eventually grow to and gangly in a way a boy could only be when teetering on the precarious edge of puberty. That would fit quite well with the fact that his voice had yet to fully deepen and that he was sporting some seriously atrocious acne.

Of course, the most salient difference was the kid’s _short_ hair, apparently naturally spiky and unruly, but cropped into line perhaps an inch shorter than Jack’s.

It was more than a little bizarre to see someone with (mostly) Chase’s face and no dark hair to frame it.

Jack put it out of his mind as best as he could, shrugging off Chenglei’s insult with practiced ease and straightening out his coat. “Alright,” he said graciously, “fair point, kid, that was rude. I’m not sorry, but it was rude.”

Instead of having the desired placating effect, though, Chenglei’s expression only darkened. “I’m not a child!” he snapped, bristling. “I’m thirteen!”

With great difficulty, Jack found the tact within himself to not immediately ask, ‘Really?’ He’d have pegged Chenglei for something closer to ten or eleven, not _thirteen._

The kid was kind of on the short and twiggy side for thirteen and by Chenglei’s reaction, it was a common enough, _hugely_ unappreciated assumption.

Hormone-tortured tweens _were_ always particularly touchy about those kinds of things.

Having so absolutely been there, Jack threw up his hands in a gesture of harmlessness. “Okay,” he conceded, “ _that,_ I’ll be sorry for. You’re not a child. That was just me being totally irreverent; it’s part of my personality.”

Chenglei huffed a snort at him, but his hackles were easing back down and he no longer looked like he was about to try picking a fight with a guy ten years older than him.

Only belatedly did Jack realize that this would be a great opportunity for some payback—his Chase always had an unerring knack for harping on the things that got to Jack the most with harsh words that never missed their mark. Jack had never had any way to retaliate because Chase was so _confident_ and if he had any flaws to be insecure of, Jack sure as hell didn’t know what they were. The dragonlord had one fantastic poker face.

Chenglei was a different story. He clearly hadn’t yet learned that same self-confidence, and even on a basic level, hadn’t learned how to at least _hide_ his weaknesses from people who would exploit them. It would be so easy for Jack to take advantage, have a little revenge…

But probably too easy.

Chenglei was only thirteen and whatever Jack said to appease his ego, thirteen was a kid. Jack, on the other hand, was an adult and he didn’t act like it nine times out of ten, but goddammit, he was not about to bully a kid for some shit he hadn’t even said and done yet.

Plus, not that Jack was entirely above low blows, but going after somebody’s body issues was _pretty low._ He had a vivid enough recollection of being Chenglei’s age, feeling all kinds of awkward and weird once his body had started changing in ways he didn’t fully comprehend.

In Chenglei’s case, Jack would guess the anxiety would be coming from the fact that he _wasn’t_ changing when everybody else _was._ Still, when you’re in that kind of fucked up place and you’re pissed at your body and you feel like everybody’s _looking_ at you (and god, the zits on Chenglei sure drew the eye!), the last thing you want is to have your issues validated by somebody else pointing them out.

In retrospect, even _Chase_ had never gone so far as to tease Jack over anything related to his body. Mostly, he’d just cast aspersions on Jack’s character (and sometimes his parentage), which was…fair, in an evil sort of way.

If even Chase Young couldn’t be that cruel to puberty-stricken kids, how could Jack ever manage it?

“So, Chenglei,” Jack began slowly, meaningfully. “What’s going on?”

The youth narrowed his eyes at him. “What do you mean?” he demanded.

“Uh. I’m here?” Jack spread his arms pointedly. “Any idea why that is?”

Chenglei turned his head, apparently disinterested. “How should I know?”

Son of a _bitch._ Jack had seriously been hoping that it would get _easier_ to talk to this kid the older he got, but this was already worse than pulling teeth. A better metaphor might be trying to interrogate a wall while simultaneously navigating landmines.

Fucking _tweens._

Already starting to reconsider his decision about payback, Jack said, “I have to be here for a reason. Guardian spirits don’t just pop up for nothing, you know.”

The look Chenglei gave him was pure conceit and Jack had the foresight to brace himself as the kid opened his mouth.

“I _just_ told you I’m not a child,” he sneered. “That means I’m not an _idiot,_ either. I know for a fact that there’s no such thing as guardian spirits. There’s only demons and pedophiles, so which one are you, old man?”

Jack was very glad he’d braced himself for that, because otherwise, he might’ve done something considerably less polite than he did—which was to scoff aloud in disbelief.

_Wow._ This kid sure was something.

Jack didn’t really make it a habit to hang around anybody, much less people this much younger than him, but Chenglei was starting to make him see that there was probably a good reason for that.

He wasn’t in the habit of being physically aggressive, either, but that right there? That had made Jack want to smack the little jerk upside the head.

It wasn’t even the condescension. _That,_ Jack was more than used to. What really rubbed him the wrong way was how Chenglei was _this_ arrogant as a snot-nosed thirteen-year-old kid.

At least when Chase Young was arrogant, he had reason to be. Chenglei had nothing.

“Okay, you know-it-all,” Jack said tightly, crossing his arms. “If you’re so smart, how come you didn’t think about magic?”

Jack had the satisfaction of watching the confidence in the boy’s splotchy face waver. “You’re a sorcerer?” he asked warily.

“No,” Jack reluctantly admitted, “but I’m here by magic.”

“How?” Chenglei asked.

Oh, boy. How to phrase this clusterfuck of a situation without making things even more…clusterfuck-y?

Jack sighed, his hands ending up on his hips. Probably best to only give the bare bones. “I know you,” he said to Chenglei, “years from now.”

Chenglei blinked at him. “How many years?”

“Wh—does it matter?” Jack asked. Seeing Chenglei opening his mouth, Jack shook his head. “No,” he said firmly, “it doesn’t, never mind. The point is, I know you then, and I caught somebody trying to use magic to come back and screw up your life.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why did somebody want to complicate my life?” Chenglei wondered.

“It…” Jack exhaled through his nose. “It’s not for you to know,” he said, going for vague and mysterious.

Chenglei didn’t buy into it. “That’s not an answer,” he pointed out skeptically.

_Ugh._

“Okay, fine: shut up, that’s why.” Chenglei looked like he might actually squawk in offense, so Jack quickly spoke over anything he might’ve said. “Anyway,” he said, “for reasons unfathomable to me just now, I actually like you and didn’t want your life to be messed up, so I came back instead of the guy who wanted to sabotage it. Which, by the way, you can thank me for at any time.”

Chenglei quirked an incredulous eyebrow at him. “Why would I thank you? You have no proof of what you say. I have no reason to believe you’re telling the truth.”

Jack felt a serious headache coming on, along with a growing desire to bash his head against a wall because fine, touché, but _really_? It felt like Chenglei was making a concentrated effort to be difficult at _every turn._

Jack could easily prove that he was from the future with any one of the dozens of technological marvels he had stashed in his coat right this very second—especially the one currently strapped to his back, but even the totally useless phone in Jack’s pocket would probably make the twerp’s jaw drop in sheer amazement.

Unfortunately, all of that stuff was decisively off-limits. It was futuristic, certainly…but _too_ futuristic. If Chenglei figured that out—and he would, if just to make things harder for Jack— he might also realize that the future Jack was claiming to know him from was roughly a millennium and a half from now. From there, it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out that he eventually goes Dark Side, and then he might try harder to avoid it and avert the entire timeline Jack called home.

Exactly like Guan was hoping for.

Once more cursing the Master Monk and the nebulously terrifying consequences of time travel in general, Jack just shrugged. “Fine,” he said shortly, “believe whatever you want. Just don’t be surprised if this isn’t the last time I pop into your life.”

If Chenglei rolled his eyes any harder, they’d have probably fallen out of his skull. “That just figures,” he muttered under his breath. “Dashi leaves, and I get stuck with a moron like you.”

Jack could really get used to lame insults that were as easy to wave away as Chenglei’s, but then his brain caught up to the rest of the sentence. “Wait,” he said, taking a curious step closer to the youth. “What about Dashi?”

“He left,” Chenglei repeated, fixing Jack with another infuriatingly superior look. “He went to train at the Xiaolin Temple. _Obviously._ ”

Unable to restrain his sarcasm, Jack replied, “Oh, of course, obviously. _Why_ wouldn’t I have known that?” It was only after he said it and Chenglei was (for once) without a snappy, snotty retort that Jack registered the unbridled bitterness in the kid’s tone.

He hesitated for just a second. Remembering the friendless Chenglei of his last Jump, Jack tried, “I bet it’s…kinda lonely around here all of a sudden…”

Chenglei gave a stiff shrug, refusing to look Jack in the eye. “I suppose,” he said in the most falsely indifferent tone Jack had ever heard, quickly adding an emphatic, “Not that I _care._ ”

It was entirely apparent to Jack that the future Prince of Darkness had a _long_ way to go before he’d be able to obfuscate with any skill. His misdirection at this juncture _sucked._

But pointing that out would only make the kid clam up again, so Jack bit his tongue.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out and laid a hand on Chenglei’s shoulder. “Look,” he said gently, “I know… I _really_ know how hard it is to…be by yourself all the time. It’s…I guess it’s probably worse if you’re used to having somebody around a lot, but…what it really helps to remember is—”

Chenglei cut off Jack’s sincere attempt at a heart-to-heart by pulling out of his grip and spinning to face him with a wrinkled nose. “Good _gods,_ ” he breathed, sounding taken aback, “were you trying to _mentor_ me?”

Jack frowned. “So what if I was?”

“ _Don’t,_ ” Chenglei said, visibly horrified. “You don’t even know me! How could you understand me, or what I’m going through? You probably don’t even remember what it was like to be my age!”

Jack’s frown deepened and he couldn’t help but feel a little offended. “How old do you think I _am_?” he wondered and once again, as he saw Chenglei opening his mouth to reply, he cut him off. “No, never mind, _do not_ answer that.”

Reminding himself that he was dealing with preteen angst here— _Like I could forget!_ —Jack gave into frustration for a moment and massaged the bridge of his nose while he tried to come up with a better way to do this.

“Alright,” he said eventually, gesturing sharply with his hand. “I won’t try to mentor you. I didn’t even really want to,” and of course, the damn kid had the balls to look insulted by that, “so fine, we won’t do that. But I’m gonna level with you here, you have to work with me.”

“Why?” Chenglei asked, and for once, Jack had a good answer.

“You want me to leave, don’t you?” Chenglei didn’t answer one way or the other, so Jack continued. “Well, I can’t leave you alone, or leave at _all,_ until we talk. That’s the spell that’s holding me here. It sounds like you’ve got plenty of your own problems to deal with and I’m sure you don’t need me following you around on top of it.”

Chenglei seemed to think it over for a moment. “So what do you want from me?” he asked at length.

“Talk to me,” Jack said simply. “Tell me about ‘what you’re going through’ and then you’re free of me.”

“You can’t _fix_ anything,” Chenglei snapped.

“Maybe I don’t have to this time,” Jack suggested. At Chenglei’s confused frown, he elaborated, “Don’t take this as _mentoring,_ but when I was your age…” Jack paused, reconciling himself to the fact that he’d actually just said that phrase. “Well, anyway, when I was angry at the world, it helped a little to have somebody to vent at.”

Even if in Jack’s case, he’d had to build those somebodies with his own two hands.

But apparently, Chenglei didn’t think the idea was totally stupid because he seemed to be considering again.

“…And you promise you won’t try to _advise_ me?” he apparently needed to be certain.

Jack laid a hand over his heart. “Absolutely not,” he said. “Not even a little, I swear.”

It looked like that was enough to content the youth because he glanced at Jack out of the corner of his eye and said, “Good. Your advice would be terrible, anyway.”

Resisting an eyeroll of his own, Jack plopped down onto the ground and gestured that Chenglei should join him. Once he had, Jack said, “Alright then, just start wherever.”

“Dashi,” Chenglei started, “never did any of his chores. I used to do some of them for him so our father wouldn’t discipline him, but he never did _anything._ He never did anything, but _he_ was the one who…”

_Got popular, made it through puberty first, was the favorite,_ Jack inferred in the silence.

“And now _he’s_ the one who gets to train at the Temple while I’m _here,_ doing everything expected of me _and_ expected of him! _I_ shovel the stalls and _I_ clear out the cooking ashes, and _I_ sharpen the tools and it’s…it’s not _fair_!”

Oh, Jesus Christ. The ‘it’s not fair’ rant.

Jack schooled his expression into one of vague, neutral interest and swore that when Chenglei was done venting, he was going to at least make the kid weasel away some food for him; _something_ to make up for the fact that he was sitting through a venting session that had literally included the words ‘it’s not fair.’

It was Jack’s sincerest wish, as he continued listening to Chenglei’s bitching, that Chase would remember this conversation when they met ‘for the first time.’

_I’ll admit I was a pretty annoying tween, Chase,_ he thought at the warlord of his future, _but y’know what? So were **you**._  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Remember what I said about being patient because I take forever at writing and posting stuff? Well... ^^;
> 
> It probably wouldn't have taken so long, but a whole bunch of factors snuck up on me to slow me right the hell down. I was sick for a week or so, then my schoolwork was piling up all at once, and then I started getting really into Star Trek which any fan can tell you is one hell of a life-eater when you try to watch all the series and movies.
> 
> But anyway, none of that matters now because I'm finally ready to post the next round of chapters for this story! XD
> 
> This is the first of the current round. Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it! :D


	5. Monks and Celibacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack's crush and time travel are a perfect storm of roadblocks.

The next thing Jack was aware of was whirling around and pressing his back against a column of bark.  
  
He blinked, more than a little baffled at his own actions…until he realized that his surroundings were _familiar._ So was the tree against his back, and though it was considerably shorter and thinner than he knew it, it still made for pretty decent cover when hiding from the prying eyes of monks.  
  
 _Oh my god,_ he thought, _are my lurking instincts **that** automatic? I didn’t even know this was the Xiaolin Temple until I **after** I did that!_  
  
On the whole, though, Jack figured that the location was a pretty good sign. His last waking memory had been of a hugely bratty preteen who had whined for _over an hour_ about how totally unfair it was that he hadn’t gotten to go train as a Xiaolin dragon.  
  
The fact that he was showing up at the temple now pretty much guaranteed that at least _that_ was over and done with.  
  
Of course, it could also make things a little more complicated. It was guaranteed that there would be a lot more people for Jack to steer clear of here. It was bad enough that he had no _choice_ but to interact with Chase, but meeting Dashi or Wuya or Guan before he was supposed to could seriously fuck up the timeline.  
  
Well, clearly, Jack’s stealth skills were not to be questioned. He could swing a little more sneaking around, just long enough to find Chenglei—and since he wouldn’t be Chase Young yet, he’d probably be amenable to helping Jack out once he explained the potential for chronological fuck-ups and the horrible, far-reaching consequences that could affect innumerable innocent lives.  
  
Yeah. That sounded like some plausible bullshit a Xiaolin monk would buy. Now, he just had to find—  
  
“Chenglei!” Jack perked at the unknown voice that suddenly echoed across the courtyard, listening harder. “Your form is good, but your stance is off.”  
  
Jack heard a muttered, “Yes, master,” in response and couldn’t contain the quirk of his lips because god, that was _it,_ finally—barring the superior attitude and the sense that he might just as soon crush you as lower himself to speak with you, that was _Chase’s_ voice.  
  
Jack had actually missed it a lot more than he thought was probably appropriate, considering he’d only heard it last something like four days ago.  
  
Still, it was just one more thing that meant Chenglei was another step closer towards becoming Chase Young. It also meant that Jack’s interference hadn’t really screwed anything up.  
  
Yet.  
  
Now that Jack had at least located his quarry, though, it was time to get down to business. Careful to keep his movements slow, because there was nothing those goddamned Tiger Instincts twigged to faster that abrupt motions, Jack risked a peek around the tree.  
  
The Xiaolin monks of yesteryear were apparently out in full-force today. The four of them appeared to be running through basic tàolù under their master’s supervision and seeing all the people he knew in his time as Masters with a master of their own, Jack felt the weirdness like a physical sensation.  
  
Naturally, Guan and Dashi caught the eye first—the two golden boy heroes-to-be at the head of the pack, moving in perfect synchronicity and flawless in their execution.  
  
Wuya was with them, of course, her face free of markings and with her long red hair pulled up into a high ponytail. She was wearing something more practical for training than the dress she wore in the future, comfortable instead of form-fitting, and Jack felt vaguely weird all over again when he realized it had pants and was sleeveless and he could see her arms, but not her legs.  
  
Jack fretted for a minute at the bizarre idea that he might be a reverse-Victorian prude— _Good lord, you can’t even see her ankles!_ —but much more likely, it was just the dissonance at seeing the woman who was essentially his mentor looking younger than he’d ever thought she could look and dressing in a way that absolutely _did not_ suit her.  
  
And then, there was Chenglei, who…  
  
Oh. _Fuck._  
  
Jack couldn’t figure out why he’d never put it together before that Chenglei turning into Chase Young would mean… _Chase Young,_ the guy Jack had about a million issues over.  
  
Of course he’d known that all the kids he’d been interacting with the past couple of days were Chase, he _knew_ that. Just…it had been such an abstract connection because they were _kids._ There were similarities here and there, echoes and hints of what they would someday be, but Jack had never been able to look at the toddler, the little boy, the irritating-as-fuck tween and see… _Chase._  
  
That was apparently not going to be a problem any longer.  
  
Chenglei had hit puberty late and remembering the acne alone, Jack knew it had to have been a rough transition.  
  
But holy crap, had it left a masterpiece when it finished.  
  
Chase…no, _Chenglei_ was fucking magnificent to look at. His eyes were closed in careful concentration as he brought his body through the motions of his art and it was with the same easy, almost preternatural grace that made Jack go starry-eyed every time.  
  
His skin had cleared rather miraculously from thirteen and the buttercream complexion left behind was unmarred and went perfectly with everything that characterized his face—the shape of his nose, the curve of his cheek, the arch of his brow. Chenglei was a beautiful, beautiful man and Jack knew for a fact that he’d only be moreso when he finished growing out his hair.  
  
Currently, it only just passed his shoulders, but the spiky forelock had already separated out and it was the same shade of glossy black that looked almost green when the light hit it. Jack’s fingers had always itched with the impossible urge to touch it.  
  
The urge was already pretty bad, but it would get so much worse when that hair _really_ got long and swished behind him like a cat tail with his every unbearably elegant motion— and just so happened to curl to an end right at the base of his spine like an invitation to stare directly beneath it. Naturally, Jack had done just that many times, forever cursing the armor skirting that blocked the surely spectacular view.  
  
Armor was not an obstacle when it came to Chenglei. Simple blue cloth curved beautifully around a fantastic backside— _I **knew** it!_ —and practically showcased strong thighs that, alright, Jack may have been imagining bracketing his hips, but could anyone blame him?  
  
Jack forced his eyes back upwards, which was a herculean effort and was rewarded immediately by the full realization that Chenglei was doing his training _topless._  
  
Jack could’ve cursed but managed not to, even if the smooth twisting and turning of Chenglei’s bare, well-defined torso was making simple tàolù look ridiculously pornographic.  
  
Or maybe Jack’s libido was just a tad overactive when it came to the guy that had basically defined his sexuality. It could easily be that.  
  
Jack eased himself back fully behind the tree and breathed for a moment or two, thinking in graphic detail of the schematics of his Jackbots, his helipack, his jet. Regardless of popular opinion, his machines had _never_ given him a boner and that lack was exactly what he was counting on them for right now.  
  
When he felt reasonably confident that the danger of humping Chenglei’s leg like a badly behaved dog had passed, he peeked back out to survey the dragons-in-training.  
  
Jack watched the monks moving through their forms, now observing Chenglei from a detached, totally professional perspective. Whatever correction his master had made to his stance must have been minor because Jack couldn’t see anything but precise perfection in Chenglei’s movements. Admittedly, Jack wasn’t a _practical_ expert at this stuff, but he’d seen enough of martial arts in ten years to know what it looked like when done right.  
  
Chenglei was doing it right.  
  
They all were, actually, and even at the beginning, it looked like these four had a roughly equal level of proficiency. Apparently recognizing this, their master—an older man with a jaw-line that looked…suspiciously a lot like Guan’s, actually—wove between his students, simply nodding in approval.  
  
Until he reached the aforementioned dragon.  
  
“Excellent,” the man murmured. “Truly excellent. You are destined for _greatness,_ Guan.”  
  
Guan was clearly pleased. “Thank you, master,” he said, continuing in his tàolù with a satisfied smile on his face even as his mentor left his students to their practice, meandering off into the temple.  
  
But Jack’s eyes were on Chenglei, who had physically flinched to overhear the praise. He looked…god, he looked _wounded_ and he spent a long, still moment looking grievously conflicted before snatching up his tunic and walking off.  
  
Jack had to give credit: Chenglei’s stealth skills weren’t too shabby either considering that the only one who noticed him leave was Wuya. Even then, she only acknowledged it with a curious glance before continuing on with her training.  
  
The total lack of attention being paid to his departure and the fact that he was stalking off in Jack’s direction left Jack with a golden opportunity, so when Chenglei passed his tree, Jack fell into step beside him easy as could be.  
  
“Where are you going?” he wondered casually, keeping pace.  
  
Distracted, Chenglei shook his head. “I need to meditate. I—” He frowned and then visibly startled to see he was no longer alone. “Jack!”  
  
“That’s my name,” Jack smirked and couldn’t be more proud of himself. _Nailed it! Officially my coolest entrance ever._  
  
“You…” Chenglei’s stride faltered a second before his gaze flicked back towards where the other monks were training. Then, a kind of shrewdness overtook his expression and he grabbed onto Jack, pulling him along until they were out of sight.  
  
Jack absolutely did _not_ go mushy inside at the fact that Chase was touching his hand.  
  
(…Because it was Chenglei touching his hand.)  
  
Either way, he didn’t let that—or the disappointment when he was let go—show on his face as they came to a more secluded part of the yard, and in fact offered a cocky smile. “Good call,” he said coolly. “Not that I don’t already know the gang, but—”  
  
“You aren’t supposed to know them _yet,_ ” Chenglei finished. At Jack’s raised eyebrow, he continued, “If they were to see you before they were supposed to, there could be serious consequences.”  
  
Well, there went the need for his grand, B.S. explanation, but in retrospect…of course Chenglei would be smart enough to work that out on his own. He was attractive and that was distracting as hell (especially up close now, _still topless, fuck_ ), but he wasn’t just a gorgeous body: he had a _brain,_ and a seriously, strategically perceptive one at that.  
  
That quick mind was probably the reason Jack was still so damn stuck on Chase, even after all this time. Painfully hot guys were a dime a dozen, but painfully hot guys who were basically geniuses in their own right? Just a tad thin on the ground, those ones.  
  
Jack was usually able to keep himself in check by reminding himself how much Chase hated him and how ridiculously stupid it would be to do anything. It hadn’t always stopped him. Sometimes, the urge to be close and on his more daring days, to actually _touch_ was just too strong, no matter how dumb it was, but reminding himself helped at least a little.  
  
Jack knew immediately that today was going to be much, much harder. Chenglei was exactly as sexy, had at least the beginnings of the brain, and most damningly, _none_ of the apparently bone-deep disdain of Jack’s hopeless crush.  
  
 _Temptation, thy name is Chenglei._  
  
Cranking his bravado up to eleven, Jack smirked. “Not bad,” he said. “You seem a lot sharper than last time.”  
  
Apparently, Jack wasn’t the only one who remembered that because Chenglei grimaced, a pink flush stealing across his cheeks and oh god, he was _blushing._ “That,” he muttered, “was years ago.”  
  
“How many years?” Jack wondered. If he could get a ballpark…  
  
“Four,” Chenglei said firmly. “I have grown much since then, I assure you.”  
  
“I can see that,” and god, could he see, but seventeen was perfect. Seventeen was _jailbait_ for a guy Jack’s age, and no matter how smoking hot that jailbait was, Jack had a legit reason to keep his hands to himself.  
  
Probably. At least it would be a _little_ easier.  
  
“You were pretty good back there,” he added, mostly to change the subject, but it was a sincere observation.  
  
Chenglei’s pretty face frowned. “Back there?”  
  
“Your tàolù,” Jack clarified. “You’re really good. You guys didn’t get to any sparring, but…you were good.”  
  
Chenglei seemed to hesitate. “I am no better than the others,” he said carefully.  
  
Dear lord, that was modesty, wasn’t it? At least an attempt at it, and that just completely clashed with everything Jack knew of Chase’s character. Even for Chenglei, modesty clearly didn’t sit well—Jack could _see_ the way he was holding himself back in the tense line of his shoulders; the awkward shift of his footing.  
  
If Chenglei wasn’t desperately refraining from bragging, Jack would bet anything that he was at least keeping himself from taking the compliment too easily. As a Xiaolin monk, it probably wouldn’t be _appropriate_ to take such pleasure in his accomplishments.  
  
Jack decided right then that this absurdity was something for which a few spoilers were totally justified.  
  
“That’s a matter of opinion,” he said, tone flippant. “By the time I meet you all, you’re pretty much the best.”  
  
Chenglei stared at him. “Am I?” he asked, and he had certainly gotten a little better at schooling his expressions because Jack could only _just_ tell that he was hopeful about the answer. Maybe he’d gotten a lot better, and he was just that eager to know.  
  
“As far as I can tell,” Jack assured him. “You always struck me as more well-rounded. Like,” he went on when Chenglei seemed confused, “Guan’s focused on technique and Wuya’s all about brute strength and Dashi flows through everything like he doesn’t even have to think about it. Am I right?”  
  
Chenglei nodded, somewhat surprised.  
  
“Well, that doesn’t really change. They all stay specialized. You, on the other hand, integrate everything together.”  
  
Obviously. Wuya ended up trapped in a puzzle-box, Dashi died young, and in grief at their total dissolution, Guan had pretty much mired himself in a staunch purity of Xiaolin tradition. Those things didn’t leave time for cultivating eclectic perfection the way turning Heylin and remaining largely unmolested by do-gooders for a millennium and a half did.  
  
But Jack only planned on giving away so much.  
  
Chenglei appeared perfectly alright with that if the small, pleased smile on his face was any indication. “That is…good to know,” he settled on saying and it definitely wasn’t the kind of ‘yes, obviously, I’m spectacular’ Jack would’ve expected from Chase Young, but at least it wasn’t the pathetic ‘no, please, you’re too kind’ that would come from a monk.  
  
“Yeah, you’re all pretty skilled,” Jack said, ready to get at the heart of the matter. He had a good idea of where he needed to start. “I’m not sure I get why Guan was the only one who got noticed, though.”  
  
Chenglei’s face fell and Jack knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “You noticed that?”  
  
“Definitely.” Jack shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to seem casual as he asked, “You think you know the reason I’m here this time around?”  
  
“I…yes,” Chenglei sighed eventually. “You are here because I am…troubled.”  
  
“You got it. So do you…” Jack trailed off, having made the mistake of glancing away from Chenglei’s eyes. The monk, as troubled as he did look, was reaching up to run his fingers through his hair and the flex of his bicep, the silky fall of his hair, the faint sheen of sweat still lingering on his skin from his training…  
  
It was like watching poetry in motion. Or a porno. Either way, distracting.  
  
But then suddenly, that flawless skin was disappearing behind blue cloth, Chenglei quickly shrugging on his top and doing up the frogs and Jack was dismayed and confused until he saw that Chenglei was blushing again—furiously, in fact, and he was very firmly averting his gaze.  
  
Well, shit. Being a genius, Jack knew all too well how low the odds were that Chenglei _hadn’t_ just totally caught Jack objectifying the hell out of him.  
  
 _So awkward._  
  
Jack covered his instinctive wince by clearing his throat and barreling ahead with what he’d meant to say as if that hadn’t just happened. “So, do you want to do this out here,” he wondered, “or is there someplace people are less likely to come looking for you?”  
  
“Uh, yes, of course,” Chenglei mumbled, still not looking at him and it was equal parts bizarre and bizarrely adorable to see him genuinely _flustered._ “Come with me.”  
  
Generously, Jack made no comments and did just that.  
  
Even without the supernatural advantage he’d get later in life, Chenglei’s stealth continued to be exemplary because they didn’t run into a single person as they entered the temple even though it was the middle of the day and the Xiaolin Temple was _literally_ at its zenith.  
  
Of course, that could also be a result of being a budding tactician who had an objective in mind—that no one else encounter Jack—and had the inside knowledge of the temple layout and where everybody was supposed to be and when in order to make that objective happen.  
  
Seeing a whole new version of Chase Young was really reminding Jack how weird his sexuality was because he was _pretty_ sure that strategy wasn’t supposed to be this much of a turn-on.  
  
Putting it out of his thoughts, Jack followed Chenglei into a small room with a tied-off curtain and watched as he undid the bindings to let the drapery fall over the door.  
  
“This room is used for solitary prayer,” Chenglei explained. “No one here is to be disturbed while the curtain is down.”  
  
“Is that for sure?”  
  
“The last to have interrupted someone in solitary prayer did so the year I first arrived. He is _still_ cleaning dishes,” the monk said, a hint of a grin of his face.  
  
Jack chuckled. “Yeah, that’d work for a deterrent.”  
  
“Indeed,” Chenglei agreed, grin broadening. His head was just a bit ducked as he looked up at Jack through his eyelashes. “In spite of the circumstances, Jack,” he admitted, practically coy about it, “it is good to see you.”  
  
Jack first took a second to quash the giddy fluttering feeling that kicked up in his stomach, and then cocked his head quizzically. “Really? Why’s that?”  
  
“Well…you were right. Last time.” Chenglei shrugged. “I know I wasn’t particularly…receptive, but telling someone _was_ helpful. You didn’t do anything, but after we spoke, things seemed easier.”  
  
“Venting is like that sometimes,” Jack said. “Catharsis. It works really well for frustrating stuff you can’t actually do anything about.”  
  
“That it does,” Chenglei nodded sagely. “Still, you helped me then. I can’t see why you wouldn’t help me now.”  
  
“That _is_ the whole reason I’m here.” Jack paused, watching Chenglei for a moment. “Why me, though?”  
  
The question obviously threw Chenglei. “What do you mean?”  
  
“You said it was good to see me,” Jack said, “but we’re not…” _close, we’re not even friends._ “We’ve only met a couple of times,” he went with instead. “I’d have thought maybe…I don’t know, that you’d have somebody better than me to vent at.”  
  
The frown returned to Chenglei’s face. “I think that’s why you’re here,” he grumbled, just shy of petulant. “I very obviously _don’t._ ”  
  
Ooh. Still a touchy subject. “That wasn’t a critique. It wasn’t,” Jack insisted at Chenglei’s suspicious look. “I don’t either, really. I just thought… There’s nobody here you can talk to about your spiritual upheaval or…whatever? _Here_?”  
  
Chenglei seemed to catch his meaning. “I have occasionally sought guidance from my master,” he said, a hint of sarcasm coloring his tone. “I have been advised to meditate.”  
  
“Which doesn’t really help you,” Jack concluded.  
  
Yeah, that sounded _exactly_ like the same Xiaolin bullshit Jack was used to centuries from now. Having a moral crisis? In need of explicit guidance? Go meditate on it until you figure it all out—your fate may depend on what you come up with, but we’ll just trust you to pick right and act really surprised and betrayed if you make the wrong choice.  
  
Or rather, the ‘wrong’ choice. As far as Jack was concerned, it was all a matter of perspective.  
  
“Okay, so, not your master. You aren’t…?” Jack hesitated. He’d only ever gotten hints, suggestions here and there of _something,_ but never anything concrete. He went for it anyway. “You’re not close with Wuya?”  
  
“Wuya?” Chenglei, instantly wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Why would I be close with her?”  
  
“…uh.” Well, there went that theory. “I don’t know, just…Dashi and Guan are close. I thought, maybe you’d pair off?”  
  
Consideringly, the monk tilted his head. “Perhaps it would be better if we _had,_ ” he allowed, “but…no. We’re not close.”  
  
“Because she’s a girl?” Jack guessed.  
  
“No, that’s not why. It’s…she…” He huffed, frustrated by a lack of words. “It feels as if she has… _expectations._ ”  
  
Jack frowned. “For…?”  
  
“Me. I think.” Jack’s total lack of understanding must have been apparent because Chenglei tried again. “She’s fine, I suppose, only…I feel like she wants something from me. Like she expects me to…well, I’m not sure exactly, just that it’s difficult to talk with her sometimes, much less _candidly._ Does that make sense?”  
  
The blatant insecurity in his expression was too cute for Jack _not_ to smile, but, “Yeah, I think I get the gist.”  
  
Wuya was like that with him sometimes, too, but for totally different reasons. She was a proud woman, edging more than a little into the territory of outright vanity and arrogance. She _was_ powerful and beautiful, the latter moreso in her youth, from the glimpse Jack had gotten of her, but the effect tended to be dampened by all her bragging about it.  
  
She’d liked to boss Jack around back in the day because he was well beneath her level and they both pretty much knew it. He was _expected_ to do her bidding.  
  
Apparently, even further back in the day, she knew how pretty she was—and how pretty Chenglei was—and _expected_ him to have an interest in her.  
  
Come to think of it, all the hints and suggestions Jack had gotten of _that_ had come from Wuya. Chase tended to be unaffected by her and when she did provoke a reaction, it was usually annoyance.  
  
Of course, _Chase_ knew full well what it was that Wuya wanted from him. Chenglei seemed (adorably) oblivious.  
  
“Don’t worry too much about Wuya,” Jack said, still smiling. “It’s nothing you did. Honestly,” he confided, “I think she’s just like that.”  
  
“Well,” Chenglei declared, “I don’t see how we _could_ be close if she continues to be ‘like that.’”  
  
“No one says you have to be. She _is_ just one of your fellow monks.” Jack carefully watched Chenglei’s expression as he added, “It’s not like she’s related to you or anything.”  
  
Jack fought the urge to flinch because the change was subtle but violent, like watching shutters _slam_ closed. There was a new stiffness in Chenglei’s body, tension in his jaw, and absolutely nothing in his eyes.  
  
In that moment, he looked so much like Chase Young that Jack very nearly apologized on instinct because he’d only ever seen the warlord look that frustrated when dealing with Jack.  
  
But this man was dressed in blue cloth, not bronze armor and he wasn’t even a _man_ yet and his hair was too short and his eyes were too light; undarkened by more than a thousand years of life experience.  
  
This was Chenglei, not Chase Young, and that was how Jack managed to find his words again.  
  
“Do you wanna sit down?” he asked. “I think we should sit down.”  
  
Instead of waiting for a reply, Jack sat on the floor and busied himself, rearranging his coat so he wasn’t sitting on it and his crossed legs so his boots didn’t dig painfully into his calves. It was better—and certainly more tactful—than just staring up at Chenglei until he joined him.  
  
After a long, slow breath, though, Chenglei did just that and gracefully lowered himself to the floor beside Jack. The motion was ridiculously elegant and Jack knew if he spared the monk more than a sidelong glance that he would see perfect posture, perfect form.  
  
Even as Chenglei, he was grossly unfair.  
  
Jack let the wary silence that hung between them go on for just a few seconds more. “So…” he prompted gently. “This is about Dashi again?”  
  
“Yes,” Chenglei said, only to look like he’d tasted something sour. “But, no. Mostly no.” He shook his head. “It’s…complicated.”  
  
It didn’t sound like he intended to elaborate on that. “Maybe I can unravel it for you.” When Jack still didn’t get a response, he gently bumped his shoulder against Chenglei’s, something that would’ve been dangerously risky with Chase, and was just barely daring here and now. “Hey,” he said, “I’m smarter than I look, I promise.”  
  
Chenglei caught his eye briefly. He didn’t laugh, but he couldn’t hide the slight, upward twitch of his lips. Jack met it with a broad grin of his own.  
  
“You did say you wanted to try the venting thing again,” Jack reminded lightly. “Maybe just start at the beginning?”  
  
Chenglei nodded slowly, a little bit of tension draining out of his posture. Settling his palms flat on his thighs and sitting back on his heels, he began to speak.  
  
“Dashi has trained here for four years. I was not able to join him until two years ago. That,” he slowly surmised, “is probably the source of everything.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“We were apart,” Chenglei said simply. “We never had been before. I suppose it must’ve changed _both_ of us, but…”  
  
Jack thought he knew where this was going. “But it feels like he changed more?”  
  
Beside him, Chenglei relaxed a little more. “ _Yes._ He was so different when we met again, it was as if he was another person altogether. He—” Chenglei paused, glancing suspiciously at Jack. “What do you know of Dashi?”  
  
“I shouldn’t answer that,” Jack said. “I really can’t tell you any hard details about anything, just on the off-chance that it hasn’t happened yet and it changes the future or something.”  
  
“I see…”  
  
“For this specifically, though,” he added, “I don’t know much, so I doubt anything I could say about him would contaminate you.” _Except that he dies before he’s old enough for a midlife crisis, maybe._ “It really doesn’t matter what you tell _me,_ though. Where I come from, it’s all already happened.”  
  
Chenglei nodded. “He is bodhisattva, or will be one day,” he informed Jack. “Apparently, he is especially attuned to the forces of the universe. He might even have attained Enlightenment without guidance, given enough time.”  
  
Jack gave a low whistle. “Impressive.”  
  
“Yes,” Chenglei said, with just a touch of bitterness. “Our master is rather impressed with him, as well. He is not the only one.”  
  
“Oh. So, he’s…he’s really popular around here, then.”  
  
“To say the least. His reputation spread quickly…and then I joined him at the temple.”  
  
Jack winced for real that time. _Jesus._ If ever there was a hard act to follow, it would be _Grand Master Dashi._  
  
Chenglei noticed his expression and let out a short laugh. “I think you’ve seen the problem.”  
  
“Would it be safe to assume there’s a lot of comparison going on?” Jack wondered rhetorically.  
  
“Most definitely safe,” Chenglei assured. “Everyone does it. Except Dashi, of course, but as it stands, I’ve become widely known as ‘Dashi’s younger brother.’”  
  
Jack stared over at him. “I thought you said you guys were _twins._ ”  
  
“And once again,” Chenglei declared, “you’ve seen the problem.”  
  
Jack hissed. “That’s rough. So now everybody’s judging you off _his_ merits and he’s getting a swelled head over it.”  
  
But Chenglei shook his head. “Not at all. Dashi is as he always was. Well…not always, maybe, but I don’t think he could _be_ that petty. He is…” He sighed. “Perfect. He’s so kind and understanding about everything. I know if I were to speak to him of this, he would try to fix it somehow without my even having to ask.”  
  
“Then why don’t you?”  
  
“Because he is… Sometimes it….” He trailed off long enough that Jack had to nudge him again. “Sometimes it feels as if he’s not even my brother anymore.”  
  
Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Chenglei kept talking.  
  
“Of course he would want me to be content and untroubled,” he said. “It’s not his sincerity that I doubt. It’s just that…he wants _everyone_ to be content and untroubled. He would do the same for any given stranger he came across. It makes no difference to him now, that we are brothers—kin. He sees all of humanity as his kin and that’s admirable, yes, but…”  
  
“Doesn’t really have a way of making you feel special,” Jack finished for him.  
  
Maybe Chenglei wouldn’t be able to admit it out loud himself because it sounded selfish in words, but Jack thought he got it. Chenglei missed his brother’s attention, the almost mystical bond that was supposed to exist between twins that prioritized each other above all else: Chenglei and Dashi against the world.  
  
Except now, it was just Chenglei against the world while Dashi worked (however admirably) against logic and the realm of possibility trying to save it.  
  
“It’s great,” Jack said, “what he’s trying to do. Not everybody—almost _nobody_ is that genuinely good,” and Jack knew that from firsthand experience. “It’s great for him and for all the people he’ll end up helping, but the ones who are close to him…”  
  
“It’s unsettling at times,” Chenglei agreed. “He was always altruistic…but never like this. I understand that he is in the process of transcending humanity, but I didn’t expect the reality of that to be so difficult. If he succeeds, he really…won’t be human anymore.”  
  
That last part, pained and almost a whisper was something Jack had no idea how to deal with, much less from _this particular_ person.  
  
He tried not to think about it and just acted, reaching out to lay a hand on Chenglei’s forearm. To the look the monk gave him, he answered clumsily, “That really seems like something personal he’s going through. I mean,” he grimaced, “obviously, he’s the one going for Enlightenment, but I don’t think _you_ should take it personally. It’s not like he’s rejecting you, specifically, he’s just, uh. Going through some stuff.”  
  
Chenglei laughed again, humorlessly enough that Jack cautiously drew back his hand. “I wish I could accept that,” he said quietly. “I’ve _tried_ to accept that. I can’t.”  
  
Jack furrowed his brow. “Is he…is he not like that with everyone?”  
  
“No.” There was betrayal behind that single word and it made sense as Chenglei went on. “The teachings say that in becoming Enlightened, the bonds of greatest strength are the last to be severed. It seems to me that Dashi is still very good friends with _Guan._ ”  
  
The name was yet another loaded word, and it was the first flash of genuine _resentment_ Jack had seen in Chenglei. It was only a flash, here and gone in a blink, but the burning heat _behind_ it…  
  
Jack thought maybe he understood how something like that could smolder, turning even someone as virtuous as Chenglei into some _thing_ like Chase Young.  
  
Still, it meant that Jack had to tread carefully here. He was still pretty resolved to interfere as little as possible with Chase’s position on this particular matter. It was for Chenglei to figure out and the last thing Jack wanted to do was lead him too much.  
  
Aside from possible coercion, leaning too far in either direction could blow his cover. Chenglei had no idea he was talking to the self-proclaimed Tech-Lord of the Heylin, which Jack supposed was one of the benefits of being as close to the border of good and evil as he was—without an explicit test of his loyalties and morals, he could pass for a good guy, or at least a neutral party.  
  
Chenglei was smart, though. Maybe not yet as smart as he could be, but definitely smart enough to pick up on it if Jack were to come on too strong for Heylin, especially this far before he’d be receptive to it. Chenglei was frustrated and upset now, sure, but he wasn’t _angry;_ he wasn’t completely stymied and unfulfilled and desperate the way somebody had to be to do something as crazy as sell their soul and become a monster.  
  
Simply put, he wasn’t ready for the Heylin sales pitch, and probably wouldn’t be for awhile yet.  
  
But thankfully, subterfuge was one of Jack’s specialties. He could handle this, easy.  
  
“Guan and Dashi must be pretty close, then,” he commented, stating the obvious and waiting to see where Chenglei would take it.  
  
“As close as brothers should be,” Chenglei replied sourly. He huffed out a breath and turned to Jack. “We sometimes travel all together to perform good works,” he said. “When people hear that two of us are twins, they assume it is Dashi and Guan.”  
  
“Y’know, that might have something to do with the matching shaved heads,” Jack mused.  
  
It surprised a short chuckle out of Chenglei, if nothing else. “It is traditional,” he said with an attractively crooked smirk at Jack’s wrinkled nose.  
  
Even as he continued to damn Chenglei for being so pretty, Jack raised his eyebrows at him. “Oh yeah? Then how come only half of you guys are bald?”  
  
“Wuya is very fond of her hair. She protested vigorously to having it shorn,” he said carefully, very obviously prevaricating.  
  
“And you?” Feeling daring, Jack reached over and caught Chenglei’s forelock in his fingers, tugging playfully at the dark, impossibly silky strands. “You don’t look too shorn, either.”  
  
Chenglei laughed outright, pulling his head away and batting lightly at Jack’s hand. “Alright, alright,” he admitted, roguishly charming as he again looked up at Jack through his eyelashes and he _really_ needed to stop doing that, immediately. “I protested, as well. I did go along with it at first, but…I don’t know, it didn’t feel right. I decided I wanted to try growing it out and my master could not argue when I reminded him of the allowance he’d made for Wuya.”  
  
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you made a good choice.”  
  
Chenglei paused, blinking at Jack. “Oh?”  
  
“Sure,” Jack said, smirking just a little. “I think long hair’s gonna look really good on you. You have the face for it.”  
  
And Chenglei…didn’t _beam_ at him, that was too unrestrained a description for it, but he was smiling, obviously pleased and maybe a little shy about it? It was a fascinating expression, especially on Chenglei, and it was making Jack want to…  
  
He had no idea, but the air in the prayer room felt a tad thicker than before; more charged with something Jack didn’t know how to put a name to.  
  
Except…maybe he did know what it was, unconsciously, because he found his fingers curling into his pant leg, keeping him from reaching out to Chenglei again.  
  
 _Jesus Christ,_ he snapped at himself, _get it together, it’s not even **Chase**!_  
  
Inhaling deeply, Jack forced himself to boldly continue, “Plus, it’s good that your master’s not totally biased about _everything._ ”  
  
The soft smile dropped from Chenglei’s face. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Just now when you guys were training, for one thing,” Jack said. “I mean, I was only watching for a couple minutes, but you were the only one he bothered to correct.”  
  
Chenglei folded his hands in his lap and studied them. “My stance was imperfect,” he said stiffly. “I was in need of correction.”  
  
“Yeah, maybe, but he called you out on it in front of everybody and didn’t even bother with a ‘that’s better’ to smooth things over.”  
  
“Our master is not…given to liberal praise,” Chase settled on saying. “He motivates in other ways.”  
  
“Okay, but if he’s not the type to give compliments,” Jack wondered, “why’d he praise Guan?”  
  
That seemed to trip him up. Chenglei’s lips parted as if to say something, but he only exhaled sharply. Then, “Perhaps…Guan is more worthy of praise.”  
  
It was really more of a question than a statement, one that Jack was happy to answer with a question of his own. “Do you believe that?”  
  
Chenglei frowned in consternation. “I…”  
  
“Do you believe Guan deserves to be praised over the guy that’s on his way to Enlightenment?” Jack pressed. “Over a girl who’s just as strong as her male counterparts? Over you?”  
  
Chenglei bit his lip. “I am not—”  
  
“You’re _good,_ Chenglei,” Jack cut in. “You are. You all are. You’re more or less equals, so do you believe that Guan deserves anymore recognition for it than the rest of you?”  
  
And after a moment, like it was being dragged out of him, “No. I don’t believe it.”  
  
“You shouldn’t. Your master’s favoring one student over the others—that’s bias.”  
  
Chenglei’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why would he pick favorites?”  
  
“Nepotism, maybe.” Jack raised an eyebrow at the utterly shocked look Chenglei gave him. “You didn’t notice? They look more than a little alike; it’s the same jaw, for sure. I wouldn’t dismiss a little ‘wild oat sowing’ in your master’s youth, if you get my drift.”  
  
“Xiaolin monks are _celibate,_ ” Chenglei stressed, sounding affronted, but with just a vague undercurrent of alarm.  
  
Jack tried not to laugh at the sheer naïveté that statement revealed. Gently, he said, “You know not everybody practices what they preach, right?” When Chenglei did not respond, he continued, “Just because he’s your teacher doesn’t mean he’s infallible. You won’t find a perfect person outside of a full-fledged bodhisattva, they just don’t exist. There’s some decent enough people, but none of them are perfect.”  
  
There were plenty of implications in that, doubts that Chenglei would be too smart not to think of later, after Jack had gone. Jack wasn’t going to give him time to dwell on them just yet.  
  
“Come on,” he prodded, “you don’t think it’s even a little possible?”  
  
“Guan…never knew his father,” Chenglei murmured, realization dawning.  
  
Jack grinned, happy to take it as agreement. “ _Exactly._ You’re destined for just as much greatness as Guan is, your master just can’t see it.”  
  
“Nor can Dashi, _apparently._ ” As soon as he’d said it, Chenglei noticed the acidity in his own tone and grimaced, allowing his hair to fall forward and hide his face.  
  
“No,” Jack said firmly and Chenglei met his eyes again. “That’s fine. Don’t be ashamed of that.”  
  
“Spite is dangerous,” Chenglei said flatly, as if by rote.  
  
“Yeah, following it, maybe,” Jack agreed. (Like he did, like Chase would do.) “There’s nothing wrong with feeling it.”  
  
Chenglei perked a little, but hesitated. “Isn’t there?”  
  
“In a situation like yours, it’s _normal._ ” Seeing that he was still not entirely convinced, Jack dryly added, “Just trust me: I _get_ it.”  
  
That got Chenglei’s attention and he turned to Jack with wide, startled eyes. “How?” he asked, sounding almost concerned. “You aren’t…?”  
  
Jack didn’t know how Chenglei intended to finish that question but, “No, I’m not…. It’s not the same, just…” He sighed. “I don’t know. But I think I do know how you feel, a little.”  
  
It really was starting to fuck him up how much he had in common with pre-conversion Chase, though maybe negative emotions just felt the same in every circumstance. Jealousy, frustration, betrayal, abandonment—they could very well be the human equalizers.  
  
It was probably a testament to how much Chenglei had grown up in the four years since Jack had seen him last that he only looked a little dubious rather than outright disbelieving this time.  
  
“I don’t understand,” he confessed quietly. “If your situation is not the same, how could you know?”  
  
Jack quirked an admittedly weak smirk. “Don’t suppose you’d let me pass that off as the wisdom of your elders?”  
  
The dubious look intensified. “You are not that much my elder, Jack. You are only…”  
  
“Six,” Jack filled in for him.  
  
“Six years older than I am,” Chenglei finished. “That does not leave much room for life-changing revelations.”  
  
Jack thought of a moment considerably less than six years from this one in Chenglei’s life. If everything happened as it was supposed to, “You might be surprised.”  
  
That was all he said for a bit and he scrubbed a hand over his face as he tried to work out what to say next. There was the risk of Time Travel Fuckery to be sure, but also…  
  
It was stupid. It was _really_ stupid, and Jack knew it wasn’t the same guy (yet), but that turned out to be curbing very little in practice. Just…Jack had never wanted to make an idiot out of himself in front of Chase, it just sort of happened because Chase was so cool and handsome and powerful that it was hard not to get flustered.  
  
It’d been awful in Jack’s teenage years and as much as he’d assumed it might get better as he got older, Chase was barely associating with him at all these days. Naturally, this left no real opportunity to put any maturity he’d gained to the test until now, and Chase wasn’t even _Chase._  
  
Chenglei was younger, earnest to the point of naïveté  and in complete counterpoint to the version Jack knew, gentle and even a little shy. He was almost as timidly, terminally awkward as Jack used to get around Chase and that _should_ have made things easier except it didn’t, really.  
  
Jack still felt inexorably compelled to impress him, to keep from saying something stupid and, especially in a personal matter like this one, to not be found wanting.  
  
It was more than a little pathetic.  
  
A light nudge and a sudden line of warmth against his side startled Jack out of the self-pitying thoughts. He looked up and found that Chenglei had edged closer, watching him with imploring brown eyes.  
  
“Jack,” he said gently, “you have let me share with you and offered no judgment. I would be honored if you would allow me to do the same for you.”  
  
Jack…had no clue what to say to that. He felt his mouth open to attempt something once or twice and he imagined he probably looked like a dumb fish.  
  
Chenglei made no comment on it. “Your counsel has been of great help to me before,” he admitted, tucking a lock of hair behind an ear turning pink at the tip. “I had thought to… I would _like_ to count us as friends…”  
  
Jack felt his heart throb in his chest at the hesitance and the blatant fear of rejection and knew in that moment that he was and always would be a total sucker for every incarnation of this man.  
  
“I…can’t go too much into detail,” he reminded in lieu of another reply, rubbing at the back of his neck.  
  
Chenglei smiled, that pleased and unbearably cute smile as he assured, “Whatever you can safely share, then.”  
  
“Well… I just know how it feels,” Jack started, speaking slowly. “Like when you really, _really_ want somebody’s attention and they won’t look at you.”  
  
Jack didn’t miss the meta, the irony, the whatever you’d call it in confessing this particular problem to Chenglei.  
  
“As much as you tell yourself it doesn’t matter,” he said, “their approval means something. It…it _does_ matter and you want him to just see you, acknowledge you,” just _like_ you a little and treat you like maybe he isn’t disappointed that you _exist,_ but Chenglei probably wouldn’t be able to relate to that part. “But he doesn’t. He won’t and it’s…awful.”  
  
At his side, the warmth of Chenglei’s body was solid and Jack took secret comfort in it as old, sour feelings mostly buried started resurfacing.  
  
“It’s even worse,” he went on, “when somebody else _does_ have his attention because then it’s not just that he doesn’t see, it’s that you’re not…you’re not _good_ enough to be seen.”  
  
He felt Chenglei’s eyes on him but didn’t look, too focused on controlling his own expression. If he let the mask of neutrality slip, Chenglei would see the petty spite that Jack knew was just too dark to be anything but Heylin.  
  
“And the one he does pay attention to is, fine, he’s good, of course he’s snagged some interest, but he’s not _that_ much better. Or,” Jack corrected, thinking of Chase’s favorite Xiaolin dragon, “maybe he’s a lot better, but not at the same things and there’s different scales of merit, but there’s only one that seems to count for anything with them and you’re…you’re terrible at it and you _know_ it.”  
  
Jack abruptly laughed on a sigh, shaking his head. “No, sorry,” he said, glancing at Chenglei with a downright painful smile, “that’s not you at all. That’s just me.”  
  
Concern had overtaken Chenglei’s face completely, actual empathy projected in the knit of his brow and the turn of his mouth. It was…jarring to see such blatant giving-a-fuck on Chase’s face, on the topic of _Jack,_ no less.  
  
Then Chenglei was reaching out, settling a hand on Jack’s arm in a mirror of only moments ago. “No, Jack,” he said, tone as gentle as his hand, “it’s not just you. I understand. People shouldn’t be judged on only one measure: everyone has their talents.”  
  
So sincere. Achingly so. Jack briefly had the nonsensical thought that it might actually be easier to talk about this _to_ Chase—but of course, with him, the topic would never come up in the first place.  
  
“I guess,” he muttered, unconvinced. “Doesn’t seem to matter much when nobody buys into that, though.”  
  
Chenglei’s frown sharpened and the hand on Jack’s arm squeezed. “Who has judged you?” he asked, endearingly concerned. “Who has failed you so?”  
  
Jack couldn’t answer that honestly. For a lot of reasons, but also, “Who hasn’t?” He stayed flippant, as close to carefree as he could manage. “I wasn’t bluffing when I said I understood, Chenglei, even about your problems with Dashi. I know what it’s like when somebody close to you…when your _family_ doesn’t seem to have time for you anymore.”  
  
Because Chenglei may have brother issues, but Jack had mommy and daddy issues like _crazy._  
  
“And sure,” he continued, “maybe you don’t _need_ them around as much as you used to,” like when you’re a genius toddler who’s figured out how to cook your own meals way ahead of schedule, for example, “but y’know…you didn’t really expect them to just leave you to your own devices.”  
  
Chenglei was still there, steady and silent and Jack knew it was weird (this whole damn thing was weird, fucking time travel), but it actually _helped,_ especially against the sudden barrage of memories—Childhood Abandonment Masterpiece Theater rolling in Jack’s head.  
  
“You try not to be bitter about it. You know they have other stuff going on and you want to be happy for them, but all you can see is,” the back of mom’s designer dress after a two-hour visit that was already ending, a vaguely familiar blur of thought where dad’s face should be, matching the total void of an already forgotten voice, “them walking away from you.”  
  
God, that was maudlin. To Jack, it sounded just as petty and cheap as it did the last time he’d said any of this aloud to somebody not preprogrammed to understand his mindset, the therapist his mother had hired for a week upon noticing that ‘your clothes are so _gloomy,_ Jackie, is this a cry for help?’  
  
Unfortunately, the therapist had been all too aware of who was signing his paycheck.  
  
Jack could practically hear that same patient, patronizing tone already, but this time in Chenglei’s voice. _Your parents are very busy people, Jack, you should try and give them a break. You’ve got a roof over your head. You’re taken care of. It seems pretty obvious to **me** that they love you._  
  
“ _Yes._ ”  
  
Jack blinked. “What?”  
  
“Yes,” Chenglei said again, bright-eyed and intently leaning forward into Jack’s space. “That’s exactly… That’s _it._ ”  
  
“…You agree?”  
  
“Of course. I had never tried to word the feeling before,” he admitted, “but you…You _do_ understand.”  
  
Chenglei spoke in a tone almost like wonderment and it made Jack smirk.  
  
“I know what I’m talking about on occasion,” he agreed faux-modestly. “Maybe you’ll think twice before doubting your elders next time.”  
  
“ _Six years,_ ” Chenglei chuckled with a shake of his head and Jack knew he’d managed to successfully shatter the mawkish mood.  
  
Not a moment too soon. He _hated_ it when shit got too real.  
  
“Hey,” Jack chided with a grin, “that’s six more years than you’ve lived through. From now on, you’re not allowed to doubt me until you’re at least my age.”  
  
Chenglei caught the lighthearted undercurrent and smiled. “And will I be your age?” he asked. “When we meet in the time you know?”  
  
Ooh, tough question, and multiple true answers. Chronologically, fifteen-hundred-plus years definitely exceeded twenty-three, but physically…? Chase looked great for his age, to say the least. His body seemed to have stopped aging somewhere in its early twenties, but whether that was before or after twenty-three, Jack had no idea.  
  
He settled on vague honesty for his answer. “I’m not sure, actually. I never thought to ask you.”  
  
Chenglei cocked his head a bit, apprehension leaking into his features. “Should I take that to mean I age extremely well or that I age extremely poorly?”  
  
“What,” Jack teased slyly, “is that vanity? Don’t worry,” he said before Chenglei could respond (probably with denial), “you get to keep that pretty face of yours.”  
  
Whether he planned on admitting it or not, the subtle relief was definitely present on said face. If Jack was as gorgeous as Chenglei was, he’d be anxious about getting old, too.  
  
Chenglei had much improved his skills of misdirection, though. He didn’t address that part at all. “You believe I am beautiful?”  
  
Jack opened his mouth to reply, but the cavalier words died on his lips as he caught Chenglei’s eye.  
  
It was seriously throwing Jack how damn _earnest_ Chenglei was. Coming from anybody else, that kind of question would only be banter—or if it wasn’t completely absurd to even think of, flirting—but there was a hint of seriousness there, like maybe nobody had ever…  
  
“I’m not the first person to tell you so, am I?” Chenglei was silent and Jack’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Seriously? _Nobody’s_ ever pointed out how pretty you are?”  
  
“It has been mentioned,” Chenglei hedged, again tucking his hair behind his ear. “I never… I have tried not to put much stock in what people say of me.”  
  
Jack considered that. “Not a bad approach,” he conceded, “but in this case, they’re totally right.”  
  
Chenglei pointedly did not look at him. “Thank you,” he murmured, going pink in the cheeks again.  
  
So preciously adorable and a million different kinds of unfair, to go along with it. Jack’s fingers clenched just a little bit harder in his pant leg.  
  
“You are quite beautiful, too.”  
  
That startled a laugh out of Jack, though. “What?”  
  
Chenglei blinked at him owlishly. “What?” he echoed.  
  
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Jack assured him, “but you don’t have to lie.”  
  
Oddly enough, it seemed to confuse the monk. “Why would I lie?”  
  
Jack quirked a grin. “To spare my feelings?” he guessed. “You don’t have to, though, I know I’m not much to look at.”  
  
Chenglei, however, was adamant about throwing Jack off whenever possible and instead of looking relieved, he frowned. It was deep, just shy of a scowl and on Chase, Jack might have called it annoyance. On Chenglei it looked more like…frustration.  
  
“But you are,” he insisted. “I have never seen anyone like you.”  
  
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Jack agreed, “but I think that’d make me more freakish than it would beautiful.”  
  
“Freakish?”  
  
Jack made a face at his own phrasing. That word wouldn’t have made it into the vocabulary yet, so Chenglei’s confusion was totally justified. He attempted to clarify. “A deviation from normal. A defect, an aberration.”  
  
Chenglei’s expression finally tipped over into scowl territory. “I cannot agree,” he said firmly. “You are none of those things.”  
  
“If you want to get technical, I’m _all_ of those things.” By a strict definitional sense, Jack was not a representative member of the human race. When he thought of it that way, it really didn’t bug him; _hadn’t_ for a long time now.  
  
Apparently, the same couldn’t be said for Chenglei.  
  
When the displeasure on his face failed to budge, Jack added, “It’s fine, really. I don’t care. It’s like you said—I don’t put a lot of stock in what people say.”  
  
“You already have,” Chenglei declared. His hand on Jack’s arm (was that still there?) squeezed again. “You malign yourself too casually for someone who has not been swayed by the opinions of others.”  
  
“It’s not,” Jack started, but then paused. That was actually… _huh._  
  
Chenglei’s hand slid up to Jack’s shoulder, bringing his full attention back. “You are beautiful,” he said confidently and as Jack automatically opened his mouth to protest, “and if you cannot believe that of your body, believe it of yourself.”  
  
Now _Jack_ was confused to speechlessness, and Chenglei was the one who took it upon himself to explain.  
  
“I know you,” Chenglei said with more certainty than three or four meetings should’ve been able to inspire. “You say we are friends later, but even though I’m not yet the man you know, you’ve treated me with kindness, more than is normally due a stranger.”  
  
“Well, that’s not—”  
  
“That speaks of your compassion,” he insisted. “You would not even be here to begin with, in a time alien to your own, if you hadn’t been compelled to help me.”  
  
A part of Jack wanted to cringe at having his positive qualities praised—he was evil, for god’s sake!—but that was still not going to be a welcome revelation yet. He tried instead to comfort himself in the knowledge that Chenglei was missing a lot of facts and Jack was here mostly on accident, only counseling the monk so he could get back to his present and get on with his life.  
  
(Never mind that he interfered with Guan’s spell because the thought of Chase being coerced was upsetting to him, or that he wasn’t shoving Chenglei towards the Heylin path as hard as he possibly could because he felt like it should be his choice.)  
  
(Damn it.)  
  
“A person is more beautiful than their body. On both counts…” Chenglei hesitated. Then, resolving himself, “I think you may be the most beautiful person I have ever met.”  
  
Chenglei’s brown eyes were so bright with sincerity that they looked almost gold and Jack shivered. It was too much of Chase, suddenly, and Jack felt his breathing stutter and a little heat of his own stealing into his cheeks.  
  
Chenglei noticed it. His other hand, the one not grounded on Jack’s shoulder came up slowly, wordlessly ghosting his fingertips over the flush of color trailing across Jack’s face.  
  
It was…fuck, it was _reverent_ and Chenglei had to just be curious (Jack knew well enough how vibrant a blush looked on albino skin), but it felt _intimate,_ uncomfortably so with how much Chenglei looked like Chase right now.  
  
Oh, god. The thought of _Chase_ doing this, pressed close against his side, holding his shoulder and touching his cheek and saying ridiculous things like ‘you’re beautiful’… And looking at him so…so…  
  
Jack squirmed a little, painfully aware that all he’d have to do would be to lean forward a bit and he’d be kissing Chenglei. He cursed himself for even having the thought because it _wasn’t_ Chase and his body didn’t seem to care, but that didn’t mean Jack had to act on every stupid, hormonal impulse he had, especially not after hearing all the nice things Chenglei somehow believed about him. Besides that, it would be in such poor taste to fling himself at an unsuspecting and all-too-innocent teenager.  
  
Chastising himself for all of these things, Jack didn’t even realize that the distance between the two of them was being closed until Chenglei’s lips were on his.  
  
He felt himself freeze…but then Chenglei was cupping his jaw and the mouth against his was warm, so warm that Jack didn’t even think twice about kissing back. He felt lightheaded, unable to think at _all_ as he started leaning into the body against his. His heart quickened and the feeling mixed strangely with the buried anticipation fluttering back to life in his belly.  
  
 _How long have I been hoping Chase would do this?_ he absently wondered, and then froze again.  
  
It wasn’t Chase.  
  
It was _Chenglei._  
  
The thought was like being struck by lightning and Jack reacted just as swiftly. He yanked himself back from the youth ( _god, he’s **seventeen!**_ ) fast enough that without Chenglei to brace against, Jack lost his balance and fell backwards, only just catching himself with a palm flat against the floor.  
  
Chenglei just looked at him, very deer-in-the-headlights. “Jack…?” He tentatively reached over towards Jack, like he wanted to help him up. “Are you…?”  
  
Jack scooted further away, shaking his head. “We can’t do that,” he said vehemently. “We _can’t._ ”  
  
Chenglei flinched back. “I…I’m sorry,” he said timidly. “Did I…misjudge?”  
  
Jack’s breathing felt heavier than normal as he struggled to get his heart rate back under control. “Misjudge what?” he asked.  
  
“I’d thought… It seemed like you were…one who would accept the company of men.”  
  
 _Translation: I thought you were gay._  
  
“I am,” Jack answered without thinking and Chenglei’s face fell even further.  
  
“I see,” he muttered. “Then…it’s _my_ company that’s objectionable.”  
  
“What? No.” Jack sat up, frowning at Chenglei. “That’s not what I—”  
  
“I kissed you,” Chenglei said, cheeks burning again and this time with shame. “You didn’t want me to.”  
  
“No, I—” _definitely wanted to kiss you, I’ve wanted to for years, just not like **this,** not with this particular you._  
  
But Jack couldn’t admit to that. One day, Chenglei was going to become Chase Young and he was going to remember this. Jack knew he was painfully obvious about his stupid crush already: the last thing he needed was to have an actual admission in memory.  
  
“I _can’t_ kiss you,” Jack said. “For…a lot of reasons.”  
  
And that, at least, got Chenglei to look at him. He looked miserable, mortified in exactly the way a teenager should be after a rejection like that and Jack kind of hated himself for doing it, but…  
  
“This isn’t my time,” he reminded. “I’m not even really supposed to be here. We can’t…do _anything_ because—”  
  
“It could affect the future,” Chenglei finished. Realization was dawning on his face and while he still didn’t look happy, the abject humiliation was leaching away. “I… Yes, you’re right. It’s too dangerous to… Of course.”  
  
“Right,” Jack agreed. “Really, it’s nothing personal.”  
  
Jack wanted to wince the second he said it because however true, it was _such_ a cliché…but Chenglei was nodding, apparently accepting it at face-value. Jack guessed that maybe five-hundred years or so after Christ wasn’t enough time for trite stuff like that to have _become_ a cliché.  
  
“It would be irresponsible to make it personal,” the monk said, resignation in his voice.  
  
That resignation felt like a punch in the kidneys. Without even having to ask, Jack knew what Chenglei was thinking: that the integrity of the timeline was just a convenient excuse, that his guardian not-a-spirit-at-all was just trying to let him down gently and wasn’t even remotely interested.  
  
It wasn’t true and Jack had _been there_ and now, because of Time Travel Fuckery and Guan’s machinations, he was putting the one person he’d never reject of his own volition in the same damn place.  
  
When he got back, he was gonna slug Guan right in his dumb, smug face for this.  
  
Jack abruptly realized he was biting his lip when the sudden sound of Chenglei’s voice in the quiet room startled him into releasing it.  
  
“May I… ask you a question, though?”  
  
Jack leapt to acquiesce. “Sure. Anything.”  
  
Staring at the hands now neatly re-folded in his lap, Chenglei tilted his head. “If… if it was personal…if it _could be_ personal… would you have pushed me away?”  
  
Jack grimaced. “I can’t answer that.” There was too much at stake here—Chase’s future, Jack’s present, hell, Jack’s entire _existence_ —to say anything that might…encourage this. He wanted to, instinctively and on so subconscious a level that he didn’t even think he could put into words how much it was killing him to have to stand here, looking at the face of the man he fell ass over teakettle for and tell him, ‘No, I wouldn’t be with you.’  
  
But it wasn’t right.  
  
As much as Chenglei really did look like Chase, he wasn’t him yet. Too much interaction, especially something as heavy-handed as (and let’s call it what it is) seduction could make it so that Chenglei would _never_ be him, and as much as this, right now hurt to do, Jack knew _that_ would hurt worse.  
  
It was hard to remember that looking at Chenglei, though, whose shoulders were hunched with a fall of not-long-enough black hair obscuring his face.  
  
Emotions aside, Jack was a mechanic at heart. He thrived on fixing things and that was probably why he’d been breezing through this spell without too much difficulty, but Chenglei sitting there scorned and so blatantly hurt…  
  
Jack wanted to fix it, had to say _something_ to salvage this impossible situation.  
  
“I’ll tell you what,” he began and felt Chenglei’s wary eyes on him. “After all this. When the…consequences and the danger of messing time up are all over. Then you can ask me that again.”  
  
It wasn’t what Jack really wanted to say. He knew it wasn’t what Chenglei really wanted to hear.  
  
But apparently, it was enough.  
  
“That is fair. I will.”  
  
He wouldn’t. That was what really killed Jack; that he was shutting down the only real chance he’d ever have. By the time it would be safe to act on any of this, it would be too late.  
  
Innocent Chenglei with his ill-advised crush would be Chase Young—and Chase Young wanted nothing to do with Jack Spicer.  
  
The tense silence of the prayer room was interrupted by the distinct and utterly inappropriate sound of a growling stomach.  
  
Jack had never been so glad for his high metabolism or a mood-breaker in his _life._  
  
Seeing the out Jack seized it, throwing on a self-deprecating grin and laughing, “So, I don’t suppose you’d be up for giving me a secret tour of the temple kitchen, would you?”  
  
Chenglei took a moment to respond, a little thrown by the sudden change of topic (which was exactly how Jack needed him to be), but he shook it off and got to his feet. “Yes,” he said, “of course.”  
  
Apparently without thinking, Chenglei held out his hand in offer to Jack. Upon realizing what he’d done, appearing abashed by the gesture, he made to rescind it.  
  
Jack didn’t let him. He reached up and grabbed onto Chenglei’s forearm and didn’t shy away when the monk’s fingers curled around his arm in return. Using Chenglei as a brace, he picked himself up off the floor, smiling at the youth—reassuringly, he hoped.  
  
That was what he was trying to convey, after all: assurance. Assurance that Jack wasn’t upset by Chenglei’s advances, that Jack hadn’t been offended or uncomfortable, and that he wouldn’t distance himself over this.  
  
Assurance that they could still be okay.  
  
It wasn’t much, but it was the best Jack could really offer right now.  
  
As Chenglei smiled back, still a bit shy and a good deal embarrassed but sincere, Jack hoped that maybe that was enough, too. 


	6. Claws and Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chase is aggressive and there's not a consensus as to whether that's a good thing.

Jack opened his eyes and knew instantly that something was different.  
  
It was dark out, dark enough that Jack with his terrible night-vision was effectively blind for several minutes. Standing there, temporarily stuck, a feeling of foreboding began creeping over him.  
  
He had never Jumped into night before. It had always been day or afternoon when he reappeared in time, sunset at the latest. _Never_ directly into pitch blackness like this, empty of even the quiet noises of nocturnal insects.  
  
Jack tried to quell his nerves as his eyes adjusted, telling himself that the dark was coincidental and probably didn’t mean anything.  
  
It wasn’t working. Jack hadn’t lasted as long as he had in the world he lived in by ignoring the weird, creepy feelings that hit him sometimes. They were no Tiger Instincts, but they’d served him too well to be doubted now.  
  
Then in the silence, there was a sound that made the hairs on the back of Jack’s neck _bristle._  
  
A scream. Distant but piercing, it was enough to stop the breath in Jack’s throat because it wasn’t right. It was distorted, mangled like—  
  
Like it wasn’t completely human.  
  
Jack knew in that instant that it wasn’t going to be Chenglei he found tonight. By the sound of things, nobody was ever going to find Chenglei again and Jack’s first instinct was to pick a direction and _not_ encounter what had taken his place.  
  
But that wouldn’t work. This spell (goddammit, Guan) had dragged him here for a reason, and he wouldn’t be able to leave until he addressed it; addressed _Chase._  
  
Jack breathed deeply, steeling himself before starting forward in the direction of the howl.  
  
 _This is not the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,_ he told himself firmly. _I have done much stupider, more dangerous crap than this._  
  
…weird how _that_ didn’t make him feel better.  
  
Even on the long, long list of stupid and dangerous things he’d somehow survived, heading _towards_ an apparently pissed off Chase Young was pretty high up there. Jack had mostly learned his lesson about agitating immortal monsters after The T-Rex Incident, proper noun status well-deserved.  
  
(Jack still had nightmares some nine years later, with massive sharp teeth and deafening roars and waking with the lingering feeling of the wash of hot, putrid breath on his face. He tried not to think about them too much.)  
  
Jack continued picking his way through the darkness, navigating deeper into a thicket of bamboo. He also tried not to think about the fact that he was now deliberately placing himself in a densely wooded area where it would be extremely difficult to run away.  
  
He grimaced at the continuing negative direction of his thoughts. _Come on, Jack, you can scrounge up some optimism. Who says you’ll even have to run?_  
  
There was that. Chase hadn’t sounded like he’d been in a good mood, sure, but Jack could kowtow a little. Alongside machines, all facets of lying, and macramé, sucking up was one of his strong suits and he had plenty of experience at greasing wheels with Chase specifically. A little bit of flattery and blatant sycophancy was usually enough to smooth whatever feathers had been ruffled.  
  
Once Chase was out of whatever mood he was in tonight, that could very well be the end of Jack’s worries. This Chase wasn’t the same as his Chase, or at the least, wasn’t necessarily the same. The one Jack knew hated his guts, definitely, but this one would be just meeting him: as far as Jack could tell, Chenglei had liked him, so as long as he didn’t screw things up spectacularly that trend could continue with Chase Young.  
  
…Or. Jack’s Universal Constant was about to kick in and this ‘first meeting’ was about to be so disastrous as to spark off Chase’s epic dislike of him.  
  
 _Well, shit. Guess I’m more pessimistic than I thought._  
  
Unfortunately, Jack didn’t have enough time to try and reroute his perspective again. There was another sound rippling through the air.  
  
It was a growl, choked and guttural and almost definitely the reason everything else in the vicinity had gotten the hell out of here.  
  
And it was _close._  
  
Jack stilled and turned his head. Through the gloom and several stalks, he saw a hunched and trembling form and once again felt his heart stutter in his chest.  
  
 _Chase._  
  
It was unmistakable this time. It was not the same figure that Chenglei had cut, incredibly close but not quite right. The shadowy fall of hair was long for one, wild and spilling well past the man’s broad shoulders all the way down his spine. Mostly, though, it was dark as hell out but Jack could still see the large rips and tears in the soft blue clothing still clinging to the man’s body, and he could only think of one thing that would shred fabric like that.  
  
The violently shaking claw held out in front of him just confirmed it further.  
  
Jack watched, silent as humanly possible, as Chase’s talons curled; clenching and unclenching before him like they were something unfathomable. The air crackled—Heylin magic if Jack had ever heard it—and the large dragon paw slimmed, becoming more like a human appendage.  
  
The banded scales stayed though, and from the looks of it, the claw-tipped digits remained strikingly inflexible. Not the desired effect if Chase’s frustrated snarl was any indication.  
  
Chase tried again, though, the crackling intensifying until the scales fluttered and slowly rippled away to leave smooth, _human_ flesh in their place.  
  
Jack was surprised to see the transformation take so long, especially just a partial one like that. The Chase he knew shifted quickly and easily between forms, like it was second nature. For it to go so slowly and to have taken as much effort as it looked like it did was strange. This Chase must not have had much practice with it yet.  
  
That he was breathing heavily, almost panting supported that theory nicely, as did the nearly imperceptible tremor that seemed to linger in his body. As Jack watched, Chase straightened marginally, tipping his head back and staring up into the vast emptiness of the sky above. There was a faint sheen of sweat on Chase’s brow, but it was the conflict on his face—exhaustion, anger, sorrow, pain—that gave Jack the clue he needed.  
  
It wasn’t that this Chase didn’t have much practice transforming, it was that he didn’t have _any._ This was his first time doing it, which meant…  
  
This was Chase’s first night _as_ Chase.  
  
That would explain what Jack was here for, but… yeah, there was no way that kind of mindset _wasn’t_ going to complicate things.  
  
Jack staunchly resisted the urge to curse or sigh or flee, reminding himself that he had to do this, that his future ( _Chase_ ) was worth it.  
  
That was embarrassingly easy to remember as the angle of Chase’s head caused his hair to slide back over his shoulders, spilling like fine goddamn silk and making Jack’s heart _throb._  
  
He couldn’t help but wonder just what the fuck it was about this man that made his brain tend towards purple prose.  
  
Chase in this moment, though…! Freshly Heylin, possibly only by hours, he was wild and dangerous, but also…sort of vulnerable and all of it was just so much _more_ than anything Chenglei could have been. He had liked the monk version well enough, but god help him, Jack loved _this._  
  
He knew then and there that he’d made the right choice the last time: Chenglei had been a nice kid with a hot body, but keeping his hands to himself had let _this_ happen and Chase Young was…  
  
Everything.  
  
Lost in a moment of total admiration, Jack didn’t notice his breathing had sped up until it’d already happened.  
  
Likewise, he didn’t realize that even the fractional change in tempo would come with a change in sound, one that would be instantly noticeable to a creature tailored for hunting prey.  
  
This occurred to him after the fact, when Chase’s head whipped around and Jack found himself almost physically pinned beneath a luminous golden glare.  
  
Jack didn’t move a muscle; possibly couldn’t the way even his eyes seemed locked into the stare Chase had caught him in. For a long, tense second, Jack didn’t think Chase even recognized him. The glower seemed to be pure instinct, feral and dangerous.  
  
But then, “You,” he hissed and no power in the universe could’ve held back Jack’s full-body shiver.  
  
Unmistakable for sure. That could only be Chase Young.  
  
Jack swallowed. “Hey,” he said weakly, around the silver tongue that seemed to have abandoned him. “Hi, uh…yeah, it’s…it’s me.”  
  
Where the Chase he knew would have rolled his eyes, this one continued to glare. “Why have you come here?” he demanded, tone clipped.  
  
“Oh, y’know, the usual.” Jack’s half-hearted grin died a quick death when Chase did not react whatsoever. He had to clamp down on a sudden, powerful urge to fidget and his first, instinctive thought about that was along the lines of not bleeding in the water.  
  
 _Well, that’s a bad sign._  
  
“Um… You look…” _like hell,_ was definitely the wrong thing to say. As true as it was to Jack, _strangely attractive right now_ probably wouldn’t be much better. Abort sentence. “Are you okay?” he tried.  
  
Chase stiffened. His glare went sharp with disbelief and Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d have made the same face if somebody had trash-talked his mother.  
  
“You dare?” Chase breathed.  
  
Jack was not too proud to admit that he was totally lost. It was just that here, with an obviously volatile dragon-man, lost was a terrible place to be. “I don’t…” he hesitantly began. “…What do I dare?”  
  
Chase snorted and the harsh sound made Jack flinch. “Even now,” the man murmured, shaking his head. “Even now, you feign concern.”  
  
“Feign?” Jack echoed. “I’m not feigning anything, I just—”  
  
“So you care, then,” Chase interrupted. “ _You_ care.”  
  
Jack frowned. “Yeah, I care,” he said, because that should be obvious. “Of course I—”  
  
“ _Liar!_ ”  
  
It came as a roar and Jack cringed back, staring with wide eyes at the suddenly furious expression on Chase’s face.  
  
“You didn’t seem to care much _then,_ ” Chase snarled, baring his (very, very sharp) new fangs, “or have you already forgotten?”  
  
Jack only felt more lost, treading ground even more dangerous than he’d thought. “I really don’t—”  
  
“You really don’t remember how you reeled back from me in disgust?” he snapped. “Just as you’re doing now?”  
  
Inside his head, Jack could’ve heard a pin drop.  
  
“ _What?_ ”  
  
“It’s pointless to deny it, _Jack._ I touched you and you may as well have been burnt,” and Chase was…twisting things because Jack had never heard something so blatantly _wrong_ in his entire life and it hadn’t been like that at _all._  
  
Unless…that was how Chase actually remembered it.  
  
Pulse ringing in his ears, Jack thought back to ‘yesterday,’ poring over every detail of The Incident at genius-speed. He’d thought he’d been totally clear with Chenglei when he explained why he had to say no, that it was a timeline issue and no matter what Jack’s own feelings on the matter were, nothing could happen. He’d thought Chenglei had understood that, accepted it, but…  
  
Chenglei had also been a seventeen-year-old kid. Young, hormonal, massively insecure: he would’ve had plenty of inclination to stew over what had been said and with however many years had passed since then, plenty of time, too.  
  
At least in Chase’s mind, a circumstantial rejection had turned into a value-based one. He thought that Jack thought Chase wasn’t good enough for him.  
  
 _Fuck._ That definitely threw a wrench in…everything. Now this wasn’t about simple kowtowing, it was about damage-control.  
  
“Wait,” he said quickly, hands automatically raised in a gesture of supplication. “It’s not, I mean, you don’t know how hard it was t—”  
  
“It was difficult, then?” Chase cut him off again, spite flashing behind his eyes. “I’m sure it was, maintaining that façade of _caring_ with my abhorrent hands on you.”  
  
“It wasn’t,” _like that,_ Jack meant to say, but wasn’t allowed the chance.  
  
“So it _was_ easy.”  
  
“No!” Jack exclaimed, frustrated. At the very least, it made Chase pause a second, watching him almost curiously. “Just let me… There wasn’t a _façade,_ I just—”  
  
And then suddenly, Chase was prowling closer and Jack’s jaw snapped shut.  
  
“Tell me,” Chase said, deceptively calm. “Does it disgust you even more now?”  
  
Jack didn’t need to ask what he meant because he was _right there._ Half a step forward and they’d be touching like…like…  
  
Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “Whoa,” he said, pointedly ignoring his own breathlessness. “You, uh…”  
  
Chase didn’t seem to be listening anymore than before.  
  
“I wonder how repulsive you’d find _this._ ”  
  
The fingers on Jack’s chest only seemed to shove lightly, but they were strong enough to make him stumble. The impact of his back against the wall of bamboo stalks behind him was jarring, moreso the realization that Chase had taken more than that half-step forward.  
  
Jack swallowed hard. _Trapped._  
  
The air crackled again and fingers were curling around his hips, considerably sharper than they were before.  
  
“Is it worse now,” Chase wondered, unaffected as if they weren’t standing chest-to-chest, “that you’ve seen for yourself what I’ve become?”  
  
“Wh-what,” Jack wondered right back with a wobbly grin, trying _so very hard_ for flippant, “the claws?”  
  
Chase hummed, leaning in. “Among other things,” he agreed, and…  
  
Oh. That was a tongue brushing against Jack’s ear—a _forked_ tongue. Abruptly, it occurred to Jack that Chase wasn’t trying to intimidate him. He was—  
  
Jack’s gasp was quiet. “O-oh god.”  
  
Chase’s mouth stayed right by his ear and Jack shivered to feel the slow smirk and the wicked chuckle that followed.  
  
“Is it more repulsive for you this time, knowing it’s a _monster_ touching you?” The question was punctuated by one of those clawed hands drifting up from Jack’s hip, beneath his coat and his shirt. Five razor-sharp points skimmed over his stomach, his chest and Jack instantly felt himself break out into goose bumps.  
  
Jack was in a prime position to be gutted by an apex predator, but somehow death wasn’t on his mind right now.  
  
Maybe because Chase was nudging a leg between his, still practically purring in his ear. “Is it more loathsome for you to imagine the kinds of things a beast like me might do to _defile_ you?” Jack’s thighs parted and Chase wasted no time pressing in between them. “What I _can_ do to you so easily?”  
  
Jack squirmed, but Chase was completely right: he was much, much stronger. As solid as Chase was, Jack might have better luck moving a brick wall and that was…  
  
Not nearly as terrifying as it should be.  
  
It seemed to be having the opposite effect, actually, and Jack cursed himself because this was a hell of a time to decide he _liked_ getting pinned. As often as it happened, he’d never reacted like this before…but then, it’d never been someone as hot as _Chase_ doing the pinning before, either.  
  
There were other pieces missing from those times, too, like the claw up his shirt cupping his ribs and the mouth at his ear that was _biting now._  
  
He groaned. “Oh _god._ ”  
  
The claw flattened, its scaly palm stroking deliberately over Jack’s belly just inches too high of where Jack was badly starting to need it. He had to bite back a whine when Chase’s fingers dipped low enough to curl into the waistband of his jeans and tugged.  
  
This was way beyond thinking unsexy thoughts. Jack needed an arctic shower at this point, but Chase wasn’t showing any signs of stopping.  
  
“Maybe it’s all the same to you,” he murmured down at Jack’s throat and the timbre of his voice went straight to Jack’s cock. “You are a time-traveler, aren’t you?”  
  
Jack’s mouth didn’t work right away. “I…yeah?”  
  
“Then maybe that’s why you did it,” Chase hissed, and Jack made a similar noise when a claw nicked the skin above his hip. “You _knew_ I was going to fall, just like _Wuya._ ”  
  
The witch’s name was a mood-killer, enough of one to let Jack put together a coherent thought.  
  
He _was_ a time-traveler. This _still_ couldn’t happen and _god damn Guan straight to hell,_ he had to stop this.  
  
Jack put his hands up to Chase’s shoulders, only tattered cloth separating him from the intense heat of the other man’s skin, and pushed. Obviously, it wasn’t going to do much, but it would make his intentions known and Chase’s honor code was very clear-cut about that kind of thing.  
  
But Chase pointedly did not budge.  
  
Jack blinked.  
  
“What’s the matter, Jack?” Chase asked. “Are you that eager to escape me again?”  
  
“No,” he answered automatically, “just…we can’t…we _can’t._ ”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I’m from the future,” Jack blurted out, “I can’t just change—”  
  
“ _No,_ ” Chase growled, pressing harder against him. “The _truth._ ”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Your real reason, Jack: I want to hear you say it.”  
  
Jack really didn’t have enough brain function available for this, not with Chase _touching him._ “Say what?”  
  
“That you couldn’t stand the thought of a Heylin monster taking such liberties with you,” he spat. “That the timeline was just your convenient excuse.”  
  
Jack shook his head. “I…I can’t say that,” he admitted.  
  
“Because you’re a coward?”  
  
The venom in Chase’s tone felt actually caustic and Jack couldn’t bite back his frustrated whine this time. “Because it’s not true!”  
  
A lightning-fast hand gripped his jaw—thankfully with fingers instead of claws. “Stop _lying,_ ” Chase snarled.  
  
“I’m not!” Jack said, wincing a little as the fingers tightened. “For god’s sake, Chase, you’re not lis—”  
  
Jack cut himself off as he stumbled forward a step, staggering to catch his balance because all of a sudden, there was nobody in front of him. He looked up, more than a little thrown to find Chase several feet back and looking at him like _he_ was the one being weird.  
  
He waited for Chase to say something, maybe explain why he’d been so set on seducing Jack in spite of protests and his own stubborn pissiness and then just _stopped_ and blueballed them both, but nothing was forthcoming.  
  
“What?” Jack eventually asked.  
  
Chase took another long moment to answer. “You called me ‘Chase,’” he said at last.  
  
Jack frowned, not following even a little. “So?”  
  
But Chase was still watching him, sudden wariness written in every line of his body. “I never gave you that name.”  
  
……oh. Whoops.  
  
Jack opened his mouth, but under Chase’s tense, accusing stare, all excuses died on his tongue. “Well,” he said quietly, shrugging deliberately. “You’re Chase now…aren’t you?”  
  
Jack had never seen it before but…hell if Chase didn’t look genuinely lost now, too. Anger and suspicion and even a little touch of frazzledness, sure—those weren’t new—but a Chase Young that seemed legitimately thrown off his footing _was._  
  
“I am,” he slowly confirmed. “So you _did_ know.”  
  
Hadn’t Chase confidently accused him of that just minutes ago? But then, maybe he hadn’t really believed it; one of those things you just say in an argument out of spite without totally thinking it through.  
  
If so, he’d been spot on anyway.  
  
“Yeah,” Jack admitted on a sigh. “I knew.”  
  
It looked like the pin-dropping silence had migrated outside Jack’s head.  
  
“You knew.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You knew…and you did _nothing_?”  
  
Jack frowned. “What?”  
  
Chase drew closer again, glaring. “I have just made a deal with a devil,” he snapped. “I betrayed my friends. I turned my back on the Xiaolin. I surrendered my humanity—I am a monster now, and you _let it happen._ ”  
  
‘So?’ was probably yet another wrong response. “What was _I_ supposed to do?”  
  
Chase scoffed at him in disbelief. “Anything! You spoke to me with a smile on your face, all the while knowing that this would happen.”  
  
“Well, yeah, but I—”  
  
“You did nothing!” Chase barked, and his voice fluctuated into something more guttural, less human.  
  
“Because I—”  
  
“You could have warned me! You could have prevented this!”  
  
“Why would I have wanted to?!”  
  
Chase stilled. “Why,” he began to echo, only to shake his head. “Because I am Heylin!”  
  
Jack took a deep breath. Now was really as good a time as any.  
  
“Yeah,” he said, almost gently. “So am I.”  
  
The shock on Chase’s face was so plain Jack almost laughed. “ _You_?”  
  
The sheer incredulity of the question, though, made Jack grimace instead. “I know,” he said, resigned, “you never would’ve guessed, right?”  
  
“ _No,_ ” and boy, did the emphasis on that bruise Jack’s ego. “You’re…”  
  
“Not a terrifying creature of darkness, no,” Jack agreed. “But I’m not sunshine and virtue either. I am Heylin, have been the entire time.”  
  
The wariness was back in Chase’s expression and Jack instantly knew what he was thinking.  
  
“No!” he hastened to correct. “It’s not like _that_!”  
  
“Not like what?”  
  
“You’re thinking I did more than just not warn you about all this. You’re thinking I…groomed you, or something.”  
  
Chase’s raised eyebrow was a challenge. “Well?” he demanded calmly. “Did you?”  
  
“Of course not!”  
  
“And I’m to just believe you,” Chase concluded, “when you’ve already proven yourself a skilled liar.”  
  
Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. This was turning out to be almost as frustrating as the goddamn thirteen-year-old. “Okay, first of all,” he declared, “I’m probably not _that_ good, and second, you can go over everything I ever said to you with a fine-toothed comb if you want, I _never_ led you.”  
  
“You could have,” Chase pointed out. “I was young and impressionable…easy to manipulate.”  
  
“Sure,” scoffed Jack, “and _Guan_ would’ve taken advantage of that.”  
  
That made Chase pause. “Guan?”  
  
Jack glanced at him sidelong. “You remember when I told you why I keep popping up here, don’t you?”  
  
“A spell. Cast by someone trying to change the events of my life.” The pieces clicked and Chase looked at him with new understanding. “Guan was the caster?”  
  
“He will be,” Jack corrected, “a couple centuries from now. He was the one who would’ve tried to change things.”  
  
Chase appeared to be considering it. “But you came back instead. And you didn’t want my life changed.”  
  
“ _Yes._ Exactly.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Why didn’t you want my life to change?”  
  
No matter his age, it seemed like Chase just had a knack for asking the hardest questions.  
  
“Because…” Jack floundered for the right thing to say. “Because you’re important.”  
  
Chase frowned. “To your timeline?”  
  
Not entirely what Jack had meant but, “Well, yeah. I still can’t go into much detail but…trust me, you’re gonna leave one hell of a mark on history.”  
  
“Am I?” Chase looked intrigued, with good reason—fame had been one of the driving forces behind his choice from what Jack remembered.  
  
“By the time I meet you, you’re _the_ Big Bad,” Jack assured him. “The Heylin Prince of Darkness.”  
  
“Really.” The new glimmer in Chase’s golden eyes was pure ambition and Jack felt his lips kick up into a smile.  
  
“Really. You’re one hell of an inspiration.”  
  
And then Chase was looking at him again, calculating. “An inspiration to you?” he wondered.  
  
Jack hesitated. “You could say that…”  
  
Really, when Jack had admitted that, he’d hoped Chase would let it lie, but clearly there was going to be no such luck. Chase was still watching him, head tilted just so in curiosity.  
  
Jack resisted the urge to start fidgeting again. “Well,” he started awkwardly, “I mean…I told you, last time, about…y’know, my family life. I was…left alone a lot and there were things I wanted,” attention would’ve been nice, acceptance, acknowledgement, _anything,_ “that I just…didn’t get.”  
  
He bit his lip. “It wasn’t a great time for me, ever…but then there was you.” It was impossible to maintain eye contact, so Jack ended up studying his boots as he said, “You were amazing. You were somebody who never got what he wanted either, except you _did_ something about it.”  
  
Jack shook his head. “And you didn’t let it stop you, either, that to _make_ everyone respect you might mean going over to the side of devils. You saw a chance to have everything you ever wanted and you took it. So, yeah,” he decided, “that inspired me.”  
  
When Jack looked up, Chase had stopped looking at him. His expression was pensive and it occurred to Jack that if he was as freshly Heylin as he seemed to be, Chase had probably never thought of his conversion in that light before.  
  
“That’s why I didn’t want to lead you,” Jack added, an afterthought. “I wanted you to make that decision for yourself because…it’s an important one.”  
  
“And it pays off?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“My sacrifice,” Chase clarified. _His soul._ “It’s worth it? I achieve everything I was promised?”  
  
Jack thought about it. “I think you do,” he eventually decided. “If you’re unsatisfied, I’ve never seen you show it.”  
  
He watched as Chase took a breath and released it slowly…and then suddenly, Chase was on him again.  
  
As before, his body was unyielding and hot against Jack’s own, but the similarities stopped there. Instead of wandering fingers, there were arms like steel bands wrapped all the way around him, their pressure just this side of painful. Glossy black hair tickled Jack’s nose and the lips pressed to his neck seemed to only be there to utter a soft, desperate, “Thank you…”  
  
“You’re welcome,” Jack breathed, purely on instinct because once again, his brain was trying to turn off.  
  
It wasn’t fair that Chase could do this so easily, clearly without even meaning to because he was just _thanking_ Jack, but remembering when Chase had been this close just minutes ago, doing… _things_ …  
  
It was taking every ounce of Jack’s self-control to keep from doing something completely inappropriate.  
  
Inappropriate like getting _hard_ when an emotionally compromised Chase Young hugs you, for example.  
  
While Jack was busy once more berating himself, he missed the way Chase noticed his lack of reaction, going totally rigid.  
  
It was a little harder to miss the way Chase abruptly reeled back from the embrace, looking startlingly horrified.  
  
Jack glanced around, expecting to see…he had no idea, but there was absolutely nothing and no one else in the forest.  
  
“What…what is it?” Jack asked. “Are you okay?”  
  
The only word to describe the noise Chase made was ‘distraught.’ “You ask _me_ that, after I…”  
  
Jack’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “After you what?”  
  
“After I _violated_ you.”  
  
Jack’s mouth dropped open. “ _When_? Just now? ‘cause that was a hug, not—”  
  
“No, _before._ ” Chase looked downright sickened. “You wanted me to stop and I…gods, I _ignored_ you.”  
  
“That?” Jack let out a weak chuckle. “Chase, it’s okay, you didn’t do anything…”  
  
“I nearly did,” Chase insisted, still noticeably appalled by his earlier loss of control. “You said ‘no’ and I didn’t listen to you.”  
  
In point of fact, Jack had never said anything like that. His precise sentiment had been ‘we can’t’ because it was a horrible, potentially timeline-destroying idea to have sex with somebody from his past, no matter _how_ (extremely, enthusiastically) willing he was.  
  
Keyword, though: _willing._ The way Chase was reacting, he must’ve thought…  
  
“Chase,” Jack tried again, “it wasn’t…” _rape, I wanted it._ “…You didn’t scare me or anything. It’s fine.”  
  
“If I didn’t scare you,” Chase asked, “then why did you tense at my touch?”  
  
Jack opened his mouth to reply but… God, how was he supposed to explain his reaction? ‘I’m so stupidly attracted to you that I had to make a concentrated effort not to get a boner from you hugging me’?  
  
Unfortunately, Chase took his silence as assent. He turned away, running an agitated hand through his hair.  
  
“Jack,” he sighed. “I… There are no apologies I can… I am not myself tonight. I will never be that same self ever again, but I _should_ have more control than this.”  
  
“Dude,” Jack interjected, “you just gained the ability to shape-shift into a dragon. That _should_ screw up your control.”  
  
“Do not excuse it,” Chase said. “It is unforgivable what harm my failing has done to you.”  
  
“I disagree!” Jack snapped and when Chase finally looked over at him, he offered his most reassuring smile. “Chase, really. No harm done. I forgive you.”  
  
Chase stared at him for a long moment, probably testing his sincerity. When it didn’t waver, he let out a wondering huff of breath. “Jack,” he said gently. “You are far too lenient for someone Heylin.”  
  
“Probably true,” Jack granted, “but I’m not nearly as bad as the Xiaolin. Good thing, too—I really don’t think I could pull off the whole ‘shaved head’ look.”  
  
That startled a snort of laughter out of Chase. “No,” he agreed, grinning, “I think not.”  
  
That was better. _Much_ better, and not only because Chase looked so damn dashing with a grin on his face. Jack really didn’t want him beating himself up over something like this, especially when he was so incredibly _wrong._  
  
Jack tensed when Chase said his name again sounding serious, but when he looked over, Chase was only earnest. “I _will_ have control,” he promised. “You need not fear that from me again.”  
  
Well. That was a completely disappointing thought, one that Jack had already tried (and failed) to resign himself to.  
  
Chase never touching him again—and for such a stupid reason, at that.  
  
It couldn’t hurt to at least _try_ to set him straight, could it?  
  
“Really,” Jack said, “it’s not that big a deal. I, uh…” He coughed lightly. “I don’t mind if you touch me.”  
  
Chase’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. For a second, Jack thought he might have actually gotten his meaning across.  
  
And then Chase snorted, shaking his head. “You should not say such things around me,” he said with a wry smile, one that told Jack he’d just been written off as naïvely having no idea what he’d said; what he’d implied.  
  
Damn.  
  
Jack fully planned on at least one more, probably futile attempt to clarify, but Chase was straightening, clearly gathering his composure for something.  
  
His next words revealed what.  
  
“Hannibal will be waiting for me,” Chase said, eyes fixed toward a random direction. “I…would not have wanted to face him again as I was. You have my thanks, Jack.”  
  
“For talking you down?” Jack smirked and if it was a little tired, he didn’t think he could be blamed. “It’s what I’m here for. Literally.”  
  
“Even so.”  
  
Jack shrugged it off. “Yeah, well. Give that new master of yours hell, alright?”  
  
Chase returned his smirk and it struck Jack all over again how unfair this whole situation was, because as always, Chase was wickedly beautiful and totally untouchable. “Of course,” he promised and with no further goodbye than that, he was off into the night.  
  
Jack was alone again. As always.  
  
 _Bright sides, though,_ he made himself think. _There’s gotta be bright sides here._  
  
This Jump’s crisis was averted; that was a good thing. Every little bit helped on this damnably long journey back to his time.  
  
And Chase was actually Chase this time! That was one hell of a bright side because no matter what else Jack did now, at least he didn’t have to worry about screwing _that_ up. Fewer things to screw up was always good.  
  
So was the fact that for one of the extremely few times in Jack’s life, he was currently on good terms with Chase. They’d had a civil conversation and Chase, in spite of definitely being _Chase,_ hadn’t called him ‘worm’ or ‘insect’ even once.  
  
Also, he’d pretty much gotten to second base, and that had been a little bit fantastic.  
  
…before Chase cut it off and then got all worked up over some non-con that hadn’t even happened. And then basically swore off ever doing it again out of some ridiculous belief that, who the hell knows, Jack was some kind of too-innocent delicate flower who didn’t know what he wanted.  
  
Well, shit.  
  
Jack really was a pessimist at heart, wasn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last installment of this round! Sorry to end it here on a downer note, but don't worry too much, I promise the story has a happy ending! ^^;
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope I don't keep you all waiting too long for the next set! :D


	7. Morality and Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they grapple with the concepts of right and wrong, but more importantly, with UST.

Supernatural lack of noise was not a problem this time around.  
  
In fact, Jack seemed to be having kind of the opposite of that problem, momentarily startled by a gentle roar of noise that he couldn’t immediately place.  
  
Luck was on his side, though—it was broad daylight and he could at least see enough of his surroundings to take a guess at what it was.  
  
Big-ass waterfalls, in Jack’s experience, tended to make that sound and there just so happened to be one right in front of him.  
  
The two might just be correlated.  
  
Clearly, Jack’s skills of deduction in this were so great that the universe decided to reward him by making Chase just a little easier to find this time around.  
  
Just slightly distant from where Jack now found himself stood, Chase hovered in the middle of the waterfall itself, only a foot or two above the surface of the lake it emptied into. He seemed to be meditating if the rigid lotus posture was anything to go by, but not so deeply that his elemental control failed. The curtain of water parted around him with precision, not a single drop dampening any part of the dragonlord-to-be.  
  
As always, Jack couldn’t help but admire that about him: mystic power and barely-human beauty, all in one.  
  
Jack also couldn’t help but start when over the din of the water he heard, “I know you’re there, Jack.”  
  
He frowned, feeling (probably unduly) annoyed at being caught so quickly. Voice raised to carry, Jack declared, “I wasn’t _hiding,_ ” because he wasn’t.  
  
Chase’s mouth quirked slightly. “You couldn’t,” he said simply, uncrossing his legs. “Not from me.”  
  
Jack resisted the urge to huff out loud as Chase walked to the shore _on top_ of the water, his sandaled feet lighting so gracefully as to only ripple the surface.  
  
Unfair _bastard._  
  
“You were meditating in a waterfall,” Jack said, just a tad petulant. “How’d you even know I was here? And don’t you dare say ‘Tiger Instincts.’”  
  
“I am a student of magic, now,” Chase reminded him, “and a creature of one as well. There are many ways of perceiving.”  
  
Oh. Alright, Jack could concede that one. “How’d you know it was _me,_ then?” he wondered. “For all you knew, I could’ve been anyone.”  
  
Chase’s grin was muted, but there; a partial-smirk to go along with a shake of his head. “Not with _your_ qi.”  
  
“…What’s wrong with my qi?” Jack demanded, half-ready to be offended.  
  
Chase just waved it off. “Not wrong,” he corrected, breezing past Jack to sit in the grass. “Unique. Your energy is not of this time and does not flow the same. It disrupts the order of things.” He graced Jack with an inscrutable look. “That is how I knew it was you.”  
  
“Oh, great, I’m disruptive,” Jack muttered with a roll of his eyes, but Chase turned away from him, staring at some point off in the distance.  
  
Aaaand, Jack’s Not-Tiger-Instincts were officially screaming at him.  
  
Here he was, offering up perfectly good banter-fodder and Chase was just _not_ taking the bait. Not that he had a lot of experience with pre-future Chase but even then, when it was something rude (at best) or aggressive (more likely) he always _did_ respond.  
  
A past version of Chase, one he was actually on good terms with _should_ be talking a lot more than this.  
  
Jack was getting the feeling that whatever he was here for this time, it had to be a hell of a lot bigger than a scraped knee.  
  
Cautiously, Jack sat in the grass next to Chase. When several seemingly interminable seconds had gone by without so much as another glance, he tried, “Sorry?”  
  
That got him a response, though Chase still sounded noticeably distracted as he gave it. “For what?”  
  
Jack shrugged. “Being all ‘disruptive’ around your meditation, I guess.”  
  
“I was unsuccessful in concentrating, anyway,” Chase dismissed lightly, and said no more.  
  
Jack’s frown deepened. _Definitely_ not normal. He watched Chase out of corner of his eye, trying to pick up on…something he might’ve missed.  
  
Now that he’d finally undergone his transformation, Chase looked the same as he always did, physically— young and gorgeous and radiating power, even with a total lack of motion.  
  
He had taken to wearing darker clothing since the last Jack had seen him, but it was neither as fine nor as layered by armor as it would one day be. It somehow made this Chase seem a tad more approachable than Jack was used to, to have the broadness of his chest and the plane of his shoulders so bluntly visible.  
  
Those shoulders, Jack noticed, were stiff; rigid like the rest of Chase’s posture. He was definitely upset about _something,_ because the Chase that Jack knew only exerted that much control over himself when he was on edge.  
  
Unfortunately, that told him precisely nothing that he couldn’t have already guessed: Jack wouldn’t even be _here_ if something wasn’t wrong.  
  
Jack sighed. “Chase?” he prompted, hoping against hope that Chase might just volunteer an explanation.  
  
Apparently Jack wasn’t _that_ lucky. Chase didn’t even acknowledge that he’d spoken this time, continuing to space out and stare at the super-interesting nothing in the distance.  
  
Jack fidgeted briefly in the increasingly awkward silence, internally warring between sympathetic decorum and simple annoyance.  
  
After only another moment or two, the obvious choice won out.  
  
“Alright, seriously,” he blurted. “Are you okay? You’re being weird.”  
  
Finally, that got Chase to look at him, head tilted in question.  
  
“Unusual,” Jack clarified. “Distant. Not…yourself.”  
  
Chase stared at him with that inscrutable look again, long enough that Jack was tempted to start fidgeting again. Then the far-off look in the man’s golden eyes was fading and Chase gave a soft snort, shaking his head.  
  
“You truly must know me in the future you come from,” he said wryly, “to know when I am not ‘myself.’”  
  
Jack hesitated. “Am I wrong?”  
  
“Not at all. Either I am more distracted than I thought, or you are shrewder than I gave you credit for.”  
  
And _there_ was the jibe. Jack felt a little tension of his own seep out of him, grinning as he suggested, “Probably the first one. I don’t get subtle, never have.”  
  
Chase made a point of looking him up and down. “Yes,” he agreed, “that was obvious.”  
  
Jack gladly snickered at his own expense, relieved to see Chase sporting a full smirk in return.  
  
It made him feel a little bolder—if he could still get Chase to laugh at him, then whatever he was here for this time couldn’t be as far outside his purview as he’d feared.  
  
It was with that confidence that he daringly asked, “Okay, so now that you’re not being weird anymore, how have you been?”  
  
Much as it would probably be more prudent to ask outright what the issue was, Jack didn’t much feel like running the risk of making Chase space out all over again by killing the lighter mood too soon. This question felt a lot safer, and true to form Chase’s response bordered on the flippant rather than the dismal.  
  
“Not much of interest to you, I’d wager,” he said. “Bean’s tutelage has consisted mostly of sorcery.”  
  
“Sorcery’s pretty interesting,” Jack protested. “What makes you think I don’t like sorcery?”  
  
“Your qi,” Chase said, grinning again. “Your energy tells me that you’re attuned to magic and may use it when it’s provided to you, but you don’t have the power to produce it yourself.”  
  
Jack squinted at him suspiciously. “Okay, really, how much does my qi give away about me? Is it stamped with my name, date of birth, and zodiac animal too?”  
  
Chase met his gaze and studied him. “You’re a ram,” he said at length.  
  
Jack sputtered. “Holy hell,” he breathed, “I was _joking._ ”  
  
Chase flashed him a fanged smile. “So was I,” he teased. “That, Jack, was a bluff.”  
  
“A damn lucky one,” Jack muttered. “Are you _sure_ you didn’t get that from my qi?”  
  
“Your qi is just your energy,” Chase assured. “I can feel how it interacts with the world around you and its relationship to magicks, but nothing else.” He chuckled suddenly. “You really are a ram, then?”  
  
“Metal ram,” Jack confirmed, briefly throwing up the horns and regretting that the implications of the visual gag were totally wasted in this time. “Zodiac’s not taken too seriously anymore when I come from, but it’s still used for fun.” He almost didn’t ask because of the connotations, but ultimately, Jack couldn’t resist. “What’s your sign?”  
  
“A wood monkey,” Chase replied.  
  
Jack felt his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “A monkey? _Really_?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Clearly, it was not Jack’s fault that he immediately burst out into laughter, prompting Chase to give him a look that seemed to vigorously question his sanity.  
  
“What is amusing about _that_?” the man demanded to know.  
  
As he got his giggles under control, Jack could only shake his head, eventually managing, “Years from now, in retrospect, this conversation will be hilarious to you, I promise, but that’s all I can tell you.”  
  
Jack thought it just might compromise the future for Chase to know so early of Jack’s first encounter with the Monkey Staff and the eventual reputation it earned as being _his_ Wu. Less generally than that, there was also the matter of that whole fiasco he’d had with the green monkeys, in which Chase was directly involved and he _really_ shouldn’t know the specifics of that one if the timestream was to be preserved intact.  
  
Even so, the idea of Chase’s zodiac being the monkey, when monkeys were almost always _Jack’s_ thing… Laughing was really the only thing he could do, faced with that.  
  
Chase, however, just snorted. “And you were the one who said _I_ was unusual.”  
  
“I never denied that,” Jack agreed, grinning easily. “You shouldn’t either. You can control the forces of nature, shapeshift into a dragon, and you’re being tutored in magic by a talking bean. That’s not exactly _usual,_ is it?”  
  
“I guess that would depend entirely on your definition of ‘usual,’” Chase returned, so airily that Jack had to laugh again.  
  
As something occurred to him, though, he paused. Nonchalantly as he could he asked, “Where is the old ball and chain, anyway?”  
  
Chase raised an eyebrow at him. “Ball and chain?”  
  
“Hannibal Bean? Your master?” Jack tried not to be too obvious in glancing around the lakeside. “He’s not lurking around here…is he?”  
  
Apparently he wasn’t subtle enough. “You seem inordinately concerned with him,” Chase noted and Jack grimaced.  
  
“I’m not concerned,” he protested automatically. From the look on Chase’s face, it was clear that he wasn’t quite convincing. “I’m not! Just…doesn’t it make sense to kinda be aware of where a guy like that is?”  
  
Chase eyed him curiously for a moment. “Are you on bad terms with him?” he wondered. “In your future?”  
  
Jack actually had to think about that one. “No…” he decided slowly. “No more than anyone, I guess. It’s hard to tell with him,” and Chase was nodding so apparently he wasn’t the only one, “but like…I’m not magic and I can’t fight, so if Bean’s around, I’d prefer to at least be forewarned, you know?”  
  
The curiosity in Chase’s gaze only sharpened. “You did say you couldn’t fight,” he mused, as if just remembering. “Yet without that and without magic, you also claim to be Heylin.”  
  
Jack frowned. “That’s… Is that against the rules or something?” If that was a rule, that you had to specialize in one or the other to join the dark side, it could explain why so many of the older Heylin rejected him out of hand.  
  
“I suppose I’m wondering how you could be a formidable Heylin with neither magic nor skill.”  
  
Ah, not a rule, then; that attitude was just the usual annoyance and hatred.  
  
“I never said I was formidable,” Jack shrugged, all self-deprecation. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, though, just not magic ones.” Thinking of just a few of his beloved creations, presumably safe in the time he’d left them, he added, “Although I guess you could say they’d be _indistinguishable_ from magic, at least in the here and now.”  
  
Chase looked at him strangely. “What?”  
  
Jack shook his head. “Part of a quote that won’t be relevant for quite a few centuries,” he explained. _Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic._ “I’d say more, but there’s too much that won’t make sense to you without context, and I can’t explain the context because—”  
  
“—it could affect your future,” Chase finished for him. “You _are_ a mystery, Jack, aren’t you?”  
  
“I choose to take that as a compliment,” Jack declared brightly.  
  
Chase seemed to only just resist rolling his eyes. “Yes, well…mysterious tricks up your sleeve or no, you need not fear Bean anytime soon.”  
  
Jack perked up. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”  
  
“He is gone.”  
  
“…gone where?”  
  
“Elsewhere,” Chase said vaguely. “I banished him.”  
  
 _Holy shit, already?_ “How’d you manage that?” Jack wondered, honestly curious. Of course he knew the story—the Ying-Yang World—but he’d never heard it told firsthand.  
  
He would be waiting for that telling awhile longer. “I told him to leave me,” Chase said simply and oh.  
  
 _Oh._ Chase hadn’t _banished-_ banished him, he’d just…told him off.  
  
Which wasn’t an epic battle of the greats or anything, but that was still impressive enough to keep Jack’s attention. “You told him to leave,” he echoed, “and he actually _did_?” Not many people could get away with a trick like that.  
  
“Ultimately, yes,” Chase said. “He seemed to think I required ‘guidance.’ I disagreed.”  
  
By the clipped tone and the sneer in his voice, Jack understood the need to start mentally translating from Chase-speak instead of just taking his words at face-value if he wanted to understand the whole story.   
  
From what Chase had just said, he got: _Bean was smothering me so I told him to go fuck himself._  
  
“Okay,” Jack replied slowly. “And…he just accepted your ‘disagreement’?”  
  
Chase made a face, quick and subtle enough that most people probably wouldn’t have caught it.   
  
(Most people weren’t Jack, of course.)  
  
“He did try to convince me I wasn’t in a good position to be making those kinds of decisions,” Chase admitted. “I insisted, and he left in his usual way.”  
  
 _He tried fucking with my head by calling emotional compromise, but I yelled louder and he left, being a haughty, omniscient bitch about it like always._  
  
“…huh,” Jack said profoundly. When he remembered a moment later that he wasn’t actually an idiot, he gathered a few more words together. “And how long ago was this?”  
  
“Five days,” Chase answered succinctly and while that needed no translation, Jack inferred that it was too unusual to go so long without hearing from Bean for it to be mere coincidence.  
  
“Well…congratulations,” Jack said at length. “On getting rid of Bean. That probably felt long overdue, right?”  
  
Chase looked at him, vaguely suspicious. “You seem unenthusiastic about my newfound freedom,” he said. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”  
  
No. Yes. Jack _couldn’t_ be enthusiastic, not with the knowledge that Chase wasn’t going to truly be rid of Bean until he’d trapped him in the Ying-Yang World. His ‘newfound freedom’ was temporary, but of course Jack couldn’t tell him that.  
  
Jack grimaced. “It’s not that,” he settled on saying and as far as he was concerned, a half-truth was better than a full lie, so he continued, “it’s just that… _you_ don’t seem enthusiastic about it and I’ll level with you, I don’t know what to make of that.”  
  
“How so?” Chase asked flatly.  
  
Jack seized on the lack of affect. “Well, _that,_ for one thing. You don’t sound like somebody’s who’s just broken some chains. You sound like somebody who’s not even here. You’re…you’re distracted.”  
  
It was a sign of how distracted Chase really was that he didn’t even attempt to deny it. He just exhaled heavily, not quite a sigh, and agreed, “Yes. I am.”  
  
“And I totally respect your privacy and all that, but the circumstances…” Jack bit the inside of his lip. “You know I gotta ask.”  
  
“Of course. It _is_ the reason you’re here.”  
  
For a long time, Chase said no more than that. The lapse back into silence quickly put Jack on edge and for a moment he wished, illogically, that he hadn’t brought it up at all.  
  
Just as he was about to cave and retract the question, though, Chase spoke.  
  
“Have you ever killed a man, Jack?”  
  
Jack’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Quickly getting control over himself again, he managed a mostly casual, “Can’t say that I have, no.” Chase no doubt heard the slight tremor in his voice that gave him away.  
  
Once more staring out over the lake, Chase drew no attention to it. Instead, he declared, “I have. Five days ago.”  
  
Jack was beginning to think his first assessment of the situation was right: this was definitely something beyond his ability to ‘fix’ with a bit of talk therapy.  
  
It didn’t really seem like he had any other option but to try, though.  
  
“Okay. Well,” he began awkwardly, “that’s kind of a…a milestone. Not an everyday thing. It’s…fine to be a little broken up about something like that.”  
  
“I’m not.”  
  
Jack blinked. “Huh?”  
  
“I’m not,” Chase repeated easily. “Broken up about it. I don’t regret it in the least.”  
  
And once again, Jack felt totally out of his depth. This…particular issue…wasn’t entirely unexpected. Jack knew—of course he knew—that it was impossible to claw your way up to where Chase had gotten without getting blood on your hands in a very literal way.  
  
Chase was a man with power and magic and a monster-side, and he controlled an army of minions and had carved himself a kingdom from a wasteland. There was simply no way he could’ve done that without hurting someone _somewhere_ along the way.  
  
Academically, Jack knew that. He’d known it from the minute he’d started hero-worshipping the dragonlord and had decided it didn’t really bother him. It still didn’t, honestly, even now.  
  
It was just that…accepting something and knowing how the hell to talk about it were two very different things.  
  
Jack had never killed anybody. He’d never even seriously _injured_ somebody, and maybe the Chase he was talking to right now wasn’t the same one who probably thought of murder the same way Jack thought of an item on his To Do List, but it was still a Chase with more experience here than Jack had.  
  
It was impossible for him to advise from experience on this one, the way he’d done with all the problems before this.  
  
Jack found himself biting his lip again and folding his arms across his chest. He tried to think of how he’d approach a conversation like this if it were any other issue—if it were an online colleague asking for help in a field he had no experience in.  
  
In a situation like that, his first step would be to ask questions until he understood the problem.  
  
“Alright, so if you don’t feel bad about doing it…what _do_ you feel about it?”  
  
Chase frowned, looking like the question had deeply thrown him. “I don’t know.”  
  
Now that he had translated it into a format he could deal with, Jack didn’t hesitate to press. “Come on, you have to feel _some_ way about it. You don’t snap and run off Hannibal Bean over nothing.” He reconsidered that. “Not that I doubt he would’ve given you reasons on his own, but it doesn’t sound like that’s what happened.”  
  
Chase seemed to think it over. “I…suppose I was…disturbed.”  
  
“Why?” Jack pushed. “Was it,” he wrinkled his nose at the thought, “messy?”  
  
“No,” Chase answered immediately, and Jack had kinda figured. There was no way a kill of Chase’s could be anything but precise; clean. “It was…easy.”  
  
“Disturbingly easy?”  
  
“Yes.” Chase’s gaze fell to his hands, folded in his lap. “It takes very little effort for me to break bone now. You would be afraid of me if you knew just how little.”  
  
Jack very pointedly did not mention the years he’d obsessed over Chase; that he knew perfectly well the upper limits of pressure the man sitting next to him could exert on an object and that the maximum statistic he’d ever recorded was enough to snap a titanium bar—to say nothing of mere bone.  
  
Instead he zeroed in on the implication. “It wasn’t an accident, was it?” That, Jack had a hard time even picturing.  
  
So did Chase, apparently, for he scoffed. “No,” he denied. “I meant to do it. I fully intended to kill him and I did.”  
  
Lacking all forms of etiquette, Jack might’ve blurted out, _So what the hell is the goddamn problem here?_ but as he put together the pieces of  what Chase was saying, he began to think he saw the issue.  
  
Taking away the morality of the act itself, Jack tried to look at it from a more Chase-like perspective; just a few notches further on the scale of sociopathy than where Jack was currently at himself.  
  
Chase had done something society as a whole considered wrong. Except, it didn’t feel wrong to him, and he wasn’t guilty about it at all.  
  
And suddenly, this was a problem Jack had _plenty_ of experience with.  
  
“You don’t feel bad about doing it,” he concluded. “You feel bad about _not_ feeling bad about doing it.”  
  
Chase turned to stare at him, apparently startled.  
  
Jack took it as his cue to explain. “Well, like…okay, this is gonna sound like a ridiculous comparison, but when I was ten, I took something of my mom’s and made something else out of it without her permission.”  
  
Jack was _still_ getting lectured over that damn juicer, even when he almost never saw his mom in person anymore. He grimaced at the thought of every annoyingly passive-aggressive mention of it in her notes and emails and the rare phone call.  
  
“Anyway,” he continued, shaking it off, “she wasn’t too happy about it and I _say_ I feel guilty about it, but I don’t really. Honestly, I don’t think I would’ve given it a second thought if she’d never found out about it.”  
  
“And what does _that_ have to do with me?” Chase demanded to know.  
  
“It’s pretty much the same thing,” Jack pointed out. “You killed some guy and that should really upset you, but you say you’re not upset—”  
  
“I’m _not._ ”  
  
“I believe you! But when everybody’s saying you should be feeling something and you just _don’t,_ it’s weird. Taking other people’s stuff is wrong too, and I haven’t felt guilty about that since I was a kid.” Jack shrugged. “I do it all the time now and the only time I ever think twice about it is when I get caught—and even then, y’know, it’s less being sorry that I did it than it is being sorry I got sloppy enough for those losers to catch me in the act.”  
  
Chase looked at Jack. “You’re…comparing the act of petty theft to _taking a life_?” he asked incredulously.  
  
Jack practically _felt_ the wind go out of his sails.  
  
“N-not the acts themselves, no,” he sputtered after a moment, “just… I mean, the underlying concept is kinda similar and it…it made sense in my head, but maybe I didn’t explain it very well. See, like… When you look at them both and compare the…”  
  
As he spoke, Chase’s eyebrows climbed (judgmentally) higher and higher on his forehead until Jack totally gave up with a noise of frustration.  
  
Dropping his definitely reddening face into his hands, he muttered, “Never mind, forget I said anything, I am clearly not the expert on this, just…never mind.”  
  
He heard Chase snort out a chuckle and felt his cheeks burn hotter, but he cautiously looked up when he felt a light touch on his shoulder.  
  
Chase was grinning at him and it didn’t look at all like mocking. It was something friendlier than that, more like…  
  
Like teasing.  
  
“I understood your meaning,” he assured. “You make a surprising amount of sense for someone who has never killed before.”  
  
Jack looked away from the almost-warm expression on Chase’s face, willing his cheeks back to paleness and awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well,” he coughed out, “I probably could’ve phrased it better. I bet it sounded pretty dumb.”  
  
“A bit,” Chase agreed, and at least he wasn’t sugarcoating it, “but there was _some_ sense in it. The attempt is appreciated.”  
  
“Good,” Jack quipped, “I’d hate to have embarrassed myself for nothing.”  
  
“Not for nothing, no,” Chase agreed and Jack tried not to feel bereft when his hand left his shoulder.  
  
He covered it with another blithe grin, one that lost a little bit of its wattage when Chase continued to look at him.  
  
Jack prided himself on being able to read Chase’s expressions—it was pretty damn useful to tell the difference between subtly pleased and subtly _dis_ pleased—but if the dragonlord had ever looked at him like _this,_ he sure as hell hadn’t let Jack catch him at it.  
  
“What?” he asked, going for broke.   
  
Chase didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. “Sometimes,” he admitted, “when you are gone, I doubt you.”  
  
“What about me?”  
  
“Everything. I doubt that you exist,” he said. “I doubt that you are sincere. I doubt that you are Heylin and sometimes, that you are from a future of mine at all.”  
  
Jack just nodded. He didn’t have it in him to be offended over skepticism, especially the kind as pragmatic and so totally understandable as this.  
  
“And then,” Chase continued, “you return and it is somehow harder to doubt.”  
  
Jack wasn’t entirely sure how to take a statement like that. He said as much.  
  
“When you sit beside me and attempt to deconstruct morality for my sake, I have trouble disbelieving you are anything but what you say you are,” Chase answered simply.  
  
Honestly, Jack wasn’t sure how to take that, either.  
  
He shrugged, saying, “The long con was never my best area. I can handle short-term just fine, but I don’t think I have the attention span to lie about something for too long. There’s too much risk of slipping. Actually,” he decided, “I think that’s exactly the reason this Back to the Past thing is kind of a waking nightmare for me.” Aside from the whole ‘no wifi, no fast food places, no hotels that accept modern currency’ thing, of course. “This spell is one big fine line between interfering _just_ enough to keep the future on course, but not so much that I change it into something else completely.”  
  
“You seem to be handling the pressure adequately,” Chase noted. Casting him a sidelong glance and a wry grin, he added, “Though I was sure your biggest complaint about being trapped in your past would be the lack of future luxuries.”  
  
Jack blinked at him, briefly startled at the unerringly accurate reading of his mind; the kind that the Chase who’d known him for eight years could’ve done just as easily as this one had.  
  
Then, he just laughed, putting a hand to his forehead. “Oh man,” he sighed, “you got me. Are you _sure_ you can’t read my qi or something?”  
  
“Quite sure.”  
  
“Then I’ve got to be the most obvious guy in the world. Maybe I’m in the wrong line of work.”  
  
“I’m certain your skills of subterfuge are just fine,” Chase dismissed, looking amused. “They simply aren’t going to work on _me_ anymore. I know you too well now.”  
  
“A handful of meetings and you know me that well,” Jack muttered. “You are _really_ good.”  
  
Chase smirked. “I shall consider us even, then. You certainly know _me._ ”  
  
That drew Jack up short. “You think so?”  
  
“Yes.” Chase tilted his head. “Does that surprise you?”  
  
“A little bit, yeah,” Jack said honestly. “You’re… Don’t take it the wrong way or anything, but you’re not the easiest person to know.”  
  
“I would consider that a compliment in our ‘line of work,’” Chase replied.  
  
“I meant it that way,” Jack assured, and then paused. “You really think I know you?”  
  
Going on ten years running in the same circles as someone, occasionally working alongside him, you’d like to think you knew him. In Jack’s case, having stalked the same guy for a year or two and having a massive crush on him that persisted to this day, he’d absolutely like to think he knew the guy pretty well, if just for the sake of his own ego.  
  
But that really wasn’t the same as hearing it directly from him.  
  
“I do,” Chase said simply. “You’ve demonstrated that several times already.”  
  
Jack blinked owlishly. “When?”  
  
“Since the beginning.” Apparently sensing Jack’s dubious look without even turning to face him, Chase added, “You would not have made it this far into the spell if I were a stranger to you. You _certainly_ would have had difficulty the last time if that were the case.”  
  
Chase didn’t have to elaborate on that. Not to be immodest, but there really weren’t too many people who could’ve handled a semi-feral, half-dragon man on the verge of a tantrum and walked away unscathed.  
  
Jack could concede that he had the Chase-navigational skills to be one of them.  
  
“I guess so,” he said out loud. “Maybe it’s just…not something I’d have expected you to say.”  
  
“Perhaps the Chase Young of your future wouldn’t say it,” Chase mused, “because I have already said it to you now.”  
  
Jack pondered that.  
  
“New rule,” he decided after a moment. “We’re not going to theorize future paradox riddles. I have enough pressure on me without having to think about entirely new ways to screw this up.”  
  
Chase’s laugh was loud and genuine and in spite of himself, it made warmth fizz in Jack’s belly.  
  
“I can accept your rule,” Chase said magnanimously. “I would certainly not wish to cause you any stress.”  
  
Jack saw through _that_ one instantly. “You’re such a liar.”  
  
Sharp fangs peeked out from Chase’s lips. “And you pretend as if you don’t know me.”  
  
“Alright, alright, so I know you. Happy?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Jack could hear himself faltering in the silence that followed.  
  
Chase took it in stride. “Another thing you wouldn’t have expected me to say?” he wondered.  
  
“Uh…yes. To say the least.”  
  
“Because to be known is a weakness and I should want to rid myself of all weaknesses?”  
  
“Well…yeah,” said Jack, though he hastened to add, “Not that I’m not grateful that you aren’t _ridding_ yourself of me, I really appreciate that for the record.”  
  
Chase didn’t bother to conceal his amusement. “Certainly. But you assume too much—being known by you is no weakness.”  
  
The vaguely (embarrassingly) giddy feeling that had started up somewhere in Jack’s chest at Chase’s surprising declaration was replaced by something heavier; a sinking realization.  
  
“Right,” he murmured. “Because I could never be a threat to you.” Obviously. It wasn’t like Chase just trusted him or anything. Jack was stupid to have even kind of hoped otherwise.  
  
But Chase surprised him again. “Likely also true,” he said with what could almost be a shrug, “but I was referring more to the power in mutual knowing.”  
  
“…Power?” Jack echoed stupidly.  
  
“Of course. One you know well who knows you in return is the best kind of ally there is.”  
  
And there went that giddy feeling again.  
  
“So…we’re,” Jack’s tongue just barely avoided tripping over the word, “allies, then.”  
  
“Yes.” Mild suspicion in the raise of an eyebrow. “Unless you would prefer otherwise.”  
  
“No, no!” Jack exclaimed. “Allies is…good. Great, actually.” By way of explanation for his hesitation, he added, “I, uh…I don’t have too many of those, to be honest.”  
  
“Neither do I,” Chase said breezily, apparently accepting that. “You are the first in a long time.”  
  
“Since Bean?” Jack guessed.  
  
Chase dipped his head faintly, acknowledging. “Since Bean,” he confirmed. “Since _before_ Bean. The last one I could trust as an ally was my own brother.”  
  
Jack vacillated just a moment before asking. “You can’t trust him any _more_?”  
  
They were on opposite sides now, sure, Jack knew that, but Dashi was _Xiaolin._ Real, _good_ Xiaolin too, unlike Guan or the monks of Jack’s future who sometimes lapsed. Last Jack had heard, he was on the way to becoming bodhisattva so of _course_ he was good.  
  
Even if they weren’t going to be collaborating on anything anytime soon for obvious reasons, Jack really didn’t get the sense that Chase’s twin had any plans to betray him—or even to actively oppose him. Enlightenment didn’t exactly make a guy raring to fight.  
  
But Chase said simply, “No, not anymore.” In response to Jack’s curious glance, he dismissively continued, “It was no great loss of an ally. It has been many years since I could say he knew me.”  
  
Jack spared a thought to his familial parallel to Chase’s situation and realized he got it. His parents were hardly his enemy, but they probably wouldn’t approve or be of any use whatsoever. Jack _certainly_ wasn’t about to call up mom and ask for advice on staging a coup to try and climb in the Heylin ranks.   
  
(Granny was an entirely different matter, but that was neither here nor there.)  
  
“ _You_ know me,” Chase said, drawing Jack’s attention back to him, “in a way that Dashi hasn’t since we were children.”  
  
Jack blinked, momentarily thrown. “Not just since Bean?” _That_ far back?  
  
Chase snorted derisively. “Dashi distanced himself from me long before I turned. If he had been paying even the slightest bit of attention, he might’ve seen it coming.”  
  
Jack flashed back a couple days, to a cute little Chaseling one monologue shy of supervillainy; his own judgment that with or without his own interference, the kid was headed Dark Side.  
  
“Yeah,” Jack quietly agreed. “I saw it then. If Dashi managed to miss it for that long, he can’t have been looking at all.”  
  
Chase exhaled loudly, just barely a huff. He was once more looking out over the lake, apparently spacing out again.  
  
Just when Jack was starting to suspect he was being ignored and he was just about ready to squirm some more, Chase spoke.  
  
“Maybe that’s why I killed him.”  
  
And that…  
  
Well.  
  
Wow.  
  
For a long moment, Jack was pathetically speechless. He’d known that Dashi died young. He’d maybe _suspected_ it hadn’t been natural causes.  
  
He definitely hadn’t guessed that Chase had killed his own twin brother.  
  
That was…something else.  
  
Chase’s gaze—or rather, the lack of it—felt pointed and Jack realized that Chase was waiting for a response.  
  
 _He’s testing me,_ Jack thought with sudden certainty and knew his response to this was crucial.  
  
Just being conscious of that allowed him to take a second, to try to react rationally instead of saying something stupid without thinking it through.  
  
Was it…really that big a deal?  
  
It felt vaguely weird to think a question like that in response to _fratricide,_ but… Well, Jack had already accepted the fact that Chase had committed murder. This was currently his first one, but by the time Jack met him simultaneously eight years ago and some 1500 years in the future ( _time travel, ugh_ ), Chase would have had to have racked up a much bigger body count than that.  
  
If Jack was fine with that, as he’d decided he was, it didn’t make sense to distinguish any kind of moral difference between killing a stranger and killing your brother. Actually, now that Jack thought about it, as Dashi’s brother Chase probably had better grounds for killing him than anyone did. Certainly more personal _right_ to than any stranger off the street would.  
  
That in mind, Jack carefully, honestly replied, “That’s as good a reason as any, I guess.”  
  
The vague feeling of tension in the air eased almost immediately.  
  
 _Pass._  
  
“Indeed,” he heard Chase tease over his own relief. “In that case, you’d best be mindful of your attention span, if you value your life.”  
  
Jack laughed out loud. “ _That_ shouldn’t be a problem,” he said easily. “I’ve pretty much always paid attention to you. I can’t think why the hell I’d stop _now._ ”  
  
It was an honest statement—more honest than Jack usually was with people and probably _way_ more honest than he’d have been within a fifty mile radius of the future-Chase if he planned on saving any face at all—but this Chase felt…different.  
  
It was weird to think because at this point, Chase should’ve been about the same as his future self. He was _physically_ the same since he’d made his choice and drank the Lao Máng Lóng. That was a given. His personality didn’t seem fundamentally different either, but there was just something…  
  
Jack couldn’t put his finger on it. This Chase just seemed…smaller, somehow, more _real._  
  
Maybe it was the lack of armor?  
  
 _Or maybe not,_ Jack thought distantly as Chase smiled at him, an expression bordering dangerously on fond as he reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Thank you,” he said, quietly and so startlingly genuine that Jack actually froze a little, unable to process it right away.  
  
Chase was perceptive. He noticed.  
  
The feeling of the air changed again, a tiny bit of tension creeping back in. Chase’s hand…twitched, there was no better word for the movement, so subtle that Jack probably wouldn’t have caught it had that broad palm not been curved around his shoulder.  
  
“You're uncomfortable,” Chase said, simply like it was nothing more than a casual observation.  
  
It felt a lot more important than ‘casual’ to Jack, though.  
  
He answered honestly again, foregoing a prideful attempt to sound less confused than he really was by the statement. “Not really. I’m just…not used to being thanked, I don’t think.” He paused, trying to puzzle out why his own state of comfort would be something Chase concerned himself with and coming up with precisely nothing. “Why do you ask?”  
  
Chase seemed to be gathering his words. Eventually, he said, “I would expect some discomfort considering the way we parted last time.”  
  
The words were decidedly vague, skirting around any real description, but Jack understood immediately.  
  
 _Oh my god, he still thinks he **scared** me with…what happened._  
  
It was admirable, in a way. It showed that Chase was keeping the promise he’d made—to have control—and didn’t want to compromise his developing code of honor by stooping to violation again.  
  
That was good. Of course it was good. Just…  
  
It was kind of hard for Jack to focus on how admirable it was when he didn’t think there’d even _been_ a violation; when Chase’s control was making him stingy about his touches when he actually, unusually seemed inclined to give them.  
  
It was frustrating and there was no reason for it and that might’ve been why Jack’s tone was just a little bit petulant when he asked, “Are you still on about that?”  
  
Chase blinked at him. “What do you mean?”  
  
“I _said_ there was no harm done,” Jack reminded. “And that was _how_ long ago?”  
  
“Two years,” Chase supplied.  
  
“Two years ago and you’re _still_ on about it,” Jack scoffed, rolling his eyes for dramatic effect. (He drew no attention whatsoever to the fact that by his perception, the incident had just happened yesterday.) “Really, Chase, I _forgave_ you.”  
  
Jack probably should’ve stopped there.  
  
He’d reassured Chase, probably stabilized the conversation, and their ‘working relationship’ could’ve gone on just fine.  
  
But the misunderstanding would’ve hung over it. Chase would’ve gone on thinking that what had happened was an assault when really…  
  
Jack had wanted it.  
  
He _should_ have left it there. He couldn’t risk soliciting anything from Chase, no matter how interested he still seemed to be when his…infatuation or whatever it was _should_ have gone when Chenglei did. Interest or no interest, the integrity of the timeline was still hanging over Jack’s head. That was too heavy for him to be messing around here.  
  
But then, whether Jack could solicit or not, he was also in far too deep to want the little that Chase was giving him to stop over a stupid misunderstanding.  
  
So, quietly and definitely against his better judgment, he said again, “I don’t mind if you touch me.”  
  
When Jack found the courage to look up, Chase was watching him. His gaze was focused, cautious like Jack had just surprised him and now he was recalculating everything else he’d said and done.  
  
That was probably exactly what was happening. You couldn’t hand a master tactician some game-changing intel and not expect him to put it to use.  
  
Before Jack could even start to wonder if that was a good thing or a bad thing, the hand still wrapped around his shoulder squeezed. The pressure was nothing even approaching painful, but it was impossible to ignore and Chase had Jack’s full attention instantly.  
  
“Really?” he wondered, as quietly as Jack had spoken before. “You don’t mind this?”  
  
Jack swallowed reflexively at the sound of Chase’s voice. It should probably be illegal for him to speak with so low a pitch. “No,” he managed to answer. “That’s…that’s fine.”  
  
Chase tilted his head just so, like a curious raptor. Jack distractedly let his eyes be drawn to the fall of hair over his shoulder and so he conveniently missed Chase catching him in the act of admiring it.  
  
If he had been a little more ‘there,’ he might have seen the exact moment that Chase’s expression went from curious to _predatory._  
  
Jack’s heart sped up when he felt fingers trailing along his back, curling firmly over the opposite shoulder. A line of warmth—heat, really, braced solidly across his shoulders. Jack’s mind blanked when he realized what it was.  
  
 _He’s got his arm around me,_ he thought and could go no further. _Chase Young put his arm around me._  
  
“What about this?” Chase asked, barely a murmur and that really, _really_ needed to be criminal because a tone that husky was not doing Jack any cognitive favors. “Does this bother you?”  
  
“I don’t…”  
  
 _Jesus Christ, Jack, you’re not fifteen anymore, you don’t **have** to think with your dick! Use your words!_  
  
Jack cleared his throat and tried to focus. “That’s okay,” he said, ridiculously proud of the way his voice didn’t waver. “I’m not, uh. I’m not bothered.”  
  
He was. But Chase didn’t really need to know about ‘hot and.’  
  
(…Because he was, unfortunately, pretty observant. He’d undoubtedly already picked up on it himself.)  
  
As if to prove it, Chase’s hand slid lower, fingers dragging slowly over Jack’s arm. Jack was hyperaware of every inch of movement, even through the thick leather of his sleeve.  
  
“Is this also acceptable?” Chase asked, ostensibly inquiring but Jack shivered, hearing the intent in his voice.  
  
 _Intent._  
  
It was looking a little different now that Chase was calm and in his right mind, but this was unmistakably a seduction. However improbable it seemed, Chase was really, actually still interested.  
  
Jack was only distantly aware of the flush starting to color his face, his physiological response to Chase’s question a resounding, _God, yes._  
  
He didn’t trust himself to say it out loud coherently.  
  
That didn’t seem to concern Chase too much. He leaned in closer, his body a hot length along Jack’s side. When Jack turned to look, his eyes were molten gold and eager.  
  
“Jack,” he said, just that one syllable but Jack heard multitudes.  
  
Chase was interested. He was interested in Jack, specifically. If this kept on, he fully intended to have sex with him, right here in the grass.  
  
 _Wow, this is gonna be hard to explain to Chase when I get back._  
  
The whimsical, stray thought was more effective than a bucket of ice water.  
  
Nothing had changed since the last time, or even the time before that. This was still the _past,_ the thing he was supposed to avoid significantly altering at _all costs._  
  
What the hell was he _doing_?  
  
Jack stiffened in Chase’s half-embrace, firing on all cylinders trying to figure out how to extract himself from this situation. It was made all the more complicated by the fact that in no way _wanted_ to extract himself—he just _had_ to and he wasn’t entirely sure how to do that…delicately.  
  
Unfortunately, the most prominent image in his head was of getting to throttle Guan. Cathartic, sure, but not exactly helpful.  
  
But then, the problem was soundly taken out of his hands.  
  
Chase pulled back all on his own.  
  
Belatedly, Jack remembered how damned perceptive Chase was—he’d have definitely noticed the sudden rigidity in his response. Jack just resisted the compulsion to wince when he risked a glance and saw Chase’s expression.  
  
The electrifying passion had gone from his eyes like it had never even been there. Chase looked colder than Jack had ever seen him outside of his own decade, but the chill this time was somehow directionless; muted instead of cutting. He looked…resigned.  
  
The expression wasn’t nearly as knife-in-the-heart as Chenglei’s devastated face, or even as frustrating as Chase’s self-disgust from only two years ago.  
  
But it wasn’t good either.  
  
 _It’s official,_ Jack decided, feeling like an absolute jerk. _I am the goddamn king of mixed signals._  
  
Jack opened his mouth, wanting to explain somehow, make excuses, spin whatever bullshit would be necessary to get past the unbearable awkwardness that was going to ensue. He wasn’t sure it was even possible, but he had to try.  
  
“Chase,” he said, and that was as far as he got before he was suddenly unbalanced by a shove that left him blinking up at the clear azure of the midday sky.  
  
A hand splayed out in the middle of Jack’s chest and Chase was leaning over him, still sitting perfectly upright.  
  
For one confused moment, Jack wondered if there was a cutting edge to Chase’s coldness after all…but then, the hand easily pinning him was firm, but gentle. Chase didn’t look angry or even annoyed, and the resignation was still there in his eyes but with an added dimension that Jack couldn’t quite label.  
  
“What about this, Jack?” he asked. “Are you still unbothered?”  
  
At first, Chase’s decidedly cheerful tone only compounded Jack’s confusion. He’d just led Chase on and then epically cockblocked him and Chase’s response was to be playful? To _roughhouse_?  
  
He’d nearly voiced his total lack of understanding when he caught something forbidding in Chase’s eyes.  
  
And then he got it.  
  
This was a change of subject. They weren’t going to talk about it. Chase didn’t need to hear whatever excuses Jack was going to make and by his cues, he wanted for them both to pretend that it had never even happened.  
  
It was an avoidance, but it was an assurance at the same time. There was no way around the awkwardness, but this was Chase’s way of showing him that it was okay; no hard feelings.  
  
Jack remembered doing the same for Chenglei and nearly laughed bitterly out loud.  
  
Playing dumb, huh? He could handle that.  
  
Jack shifted up a little, bracing his palms in the grass and trying to sit back up. As expected, Chase’s hand stayed right where it was, keeping him pinned.  
  
“Wh—oh, come on!” Jack sputtered in mock outrage, pushing up harder to absolutely no avail. The fact that Chase was holding him down with one hand and no effort inspired a bit of _real_ outrage to make the performance more realistic. “Get off me!”  
  
“Why?” Chase wondered, all faux innocence. “Are you uncomfortable?”  
  
“A little bit, yeah,” with just a nip of sarcasm for effect. Jack struggled a little more, continuing to get nowhere fast, before finally groaning, “Alright, you’ve made your point! What do you want me to say? I surrender, you’re the alpha dog, you _win,_ already, come _on_!”  
  
Chase nodded slowly. “That _is_ pleasing to hear,” he decided and did not move his hand.  
  
Jack was amused in spite of himself. The mismatch in strength was just too obvious and both of them knew perfectly well that Jack wasn’t getting up until Chase let him.  
  
He laughed as he flopped back to the grass like a ragdoll, vaguely waving his hand. “Okay, okay, I really do give up.” He chuckled. “You _are_ evil, you know that?”  
  
Jack said it—and meant it—lightheartedly, but Chase’s response took just a bit too long for it to have been taken that way.  
  
Chase’s hand moved and Jack sat back up frowning, wondering if he’d already screwed up their fragile truce.  
  
Then, “Yes,” Chase said slowly. “I _am_ evil.”  
  
From the sound of it, Chase had just had an epiphany.  
  
It seemed strange that he should be realizing that _now,_ when he’d already been Heylin for years, but then Jack had claimed to be evil for a long time before it was really a part of his identity. In comparison, two years wasn’t too shabby.  
  
As Jack watched him Chase seemed to relax, at first by slow degrees and then all at once. It was a relief, like he had just unburdened himself of something inordinately heavy.  
  
 _Conscience, probably,_ Jack thought distantly. He had a feeling that his offhand comment had just done more to fix the ‘problem’ this go-around than any of the heartfelt assurances before.  
  
Really, whatever got the job done. As long as Chase was done feeling bad about not feeling bad because being evil meant you didn’t get all bent out of shape over the conscience you didn’t need to have.  
  
Everything was still on course to happen. Nothing was screwed up yet.  
  
Jack felt a relief of his own at that. He wished that…a lot of things could be different about all this, but as long as he was fixing what needed to be fixed and his future was preserved, he thought he could live with it. That was the mature thing to do.  
  
He was _still_ gonna do something nasty to Guan when he got back home.  
  
Jack cleared his throat, bringing Chase’s attention back to him.  
  
“It probably goes without saying at this point, but whatever it is you do about food,” because the Xiaolin temple certainly wasn’t providing it anymore, “can you do that for me, too?”  
  
Chase snorted softly. “You always ask about food,” he noted. “Is it my duty to feed you every time you appear?”  
  
“Short answer? Yes,” Jack declared. “It’s your life I’m tied to right now and if you don’t help me find something to eat, I’m just gonna be ten times more annoying about it the next time I see you. Besides,” he added, “it could be _years_ before I get to eat again, I have to ask while I can.”  
  
Chase caught the joke. A wry grin spread slowly across his face. “I see your point,” he said. “Fair enough. Come.”  
  
Jack took the hand Chase offered and they both got up. The silence that followed was companionable. Platonic.  
  
It wasn’t everything Jack wished for, not by a long shot, but it was…fine.  
  
Everything was fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I think I've officially decided three chapters at once is too optimistic. Or at least that posting that way keeps you guys waiting for a lot longer while I try to get enough together to post, and I feel like the people who are reading this would prefer to see less more often than a lot with months and months in between. ^^;
> 
> That said, I'll be posting this chapter by itself this time. Hope you all like it! :D


	8. Stagnation and Ignition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which domesticity is cause for shock and horror.

Everything was dead.  
  
Not that Jack was a plant expert or anything, but with the yellow color of the brittle crop stalks in front of him he figured ‘probably dead’ was a safe bet. The thin layer of white on the ground over them and the sharp bite of cold in the air from the snow still falling only made it all the safer.  
  
Jack shivered, more instinct than actual chill. His fingers found the high collar of his coat and flipped it up to block the worst of the breeze from his face.  
  
When he’d been younger, he only wanted that exaggerated collar for the evil aesthetics. Now, as an adult, he tended to keep it folded down…unless he needed to protect his face from something like wind or smoke or flying bits of debris. It was still a useful feature, he figured, just in a different way.  
  
An infinitely _more_ useful feature was the coat’s temperature-activated heating system and as it kicked in, Jack took a look around.  
  
 _End of fall,_ he guessed after a glance upwards at the sky. It certainly couldn’t be too far into winter yet, or the field in front of him would be completely buried in snow instead of just dusted.  
  
The field itself was of wheat or maybe millet—it was hard to tell which since it all seemed pretty dead right now. It was a fairly small patch of land, too, and probably just meant for subsistence farming if the modest little hut off in the near distance was anything to go by.  
  
Jack wandered a little closer to it, the faint crunching of snow under his boots the only sound to be heard.  
  
‘Modest’ was certainly the… _polite_ term for the dwelling from where he was standing. There really wasn’t much to it at all, just a couple of wooden lathes held together with dried mud and a thatched roof on top. It had the traditional protective emblems carved around the doorway, symbols of benevolent gods to bless the house and its occupants, but was otherwise completely unornamented. Oh sure, it seemed sturdy enough, its construction precise and sound. It was just…  
  
Plain. _Simple,_ in all meanings of that word.  
  
Jack’s nose scrunched up. _What the hell am I doing in a place like **this**?_  
  
Suddenly there was movement in the doorway of the hut, a shifting of the heavy cloth draped in front of it and—  
  
 _Correction,_ Jack thought, momentarily stunned. _What the hell is **Chase** doing in a place like this?!_  
  
Jack could only assume his own expression was a match for the one Chase was giving him, startled and maybe even a little disbelieving. He watched as Chase glided gracefully out of the door towards him.  
  
“Jack?” he breathed, incredulous. Then stronger as he closed the distance between them, “ _Jack._ ”  
  
“Chase,” he returned in spite of his confusion. As always, it was out of Jack’s control that his lips twitched up into a smile—Chase Young, actually something besides annoyed to see him. He tried to force his grin at least a _little_ crooked, more casual as he quipped, “How have you been?”  
  
Chase didn’t answer at first. He just looked at Jack oddly for a drawn out moment, one that made Jack’s smile fall a little.  
  
Then he reached out and wrapped a hand around Jack’s arm.  
  
“Um,” Jack said, eloquent as ever.  
  
Chase was perhaps a bit more eloquent in his reply. “So you _are_ real.”  
  
Jack raised an eyebrow. “Was that in question again?”  
  
“I was beginning to wonder, actually.” Chase’s hand squeezed gently. Jack met his eyes as he added, “It’s been more than eighty years since I saw you last.”  
  
If Jack had been drinking something, it would’ve be the absolute perfect moment for a spit-take.  
  
“ _Wow,_ ” he blurted. “ _That’s_ an interval.” And because he couldn’t quite grasp it, “ _Eighty_? Really?”  
  
“Eighty-eight, to be exact,” and that was basically a decade shy of a full century and _damn._  
  
It probably shouldn’t matter to Jack. With Chase impervious to old age, Jack’s losing time meant he wasn’t actually…well, _losing_ anything.  
  
But it was still more than a little jarring.  
  
Until now, Jack had never Jumped any more than a few years at a time. There had been a little variation, but he was still running into Chase every three or four years of his life. It was pattern, _regular._  
  
And now it wasn’t. _Eighty-eight years._  
  
“Sorry,” was the first thing Jack could even think to say. “I’m not exactly in control of this whole…whatever…”  
  
“No, I don’t suppose you would be,” Chase said. It was casual, just a touch sardonic, but hardly accusatory—he obviously didn’t think it was as big a deal as Jack did. “I _am_ pleased to know I haven’t spent most of my life deluded, though.”  
  
Jack saw the opening and couldn’t resist. “Just because I’m real doesn’t mean you’re _not_ deluded.”  
  
Chase smirked, and Jack chalked it up as a personal victory. “Always the funny one, aren’t you?”  
  
“Somebody’s gotta do it,” Jack shrugged as a winter breeze blew between them. He shoved his hands in his pockets to protect his fingers from the chill. “Of the two of us, I’d say the ‘funny’ falls to me.”  
  
“Yes, gods forbid I have a sense of humor.” Chase’s eyes flicked to Jack’s pockets and he added, “You must be cold. Would you like to go inside?”  
  
Honestly, Jack didn’t think it would make much of a difference. The hut over Chase’s shoulder still looked incredibly…dinky. Jack’s coat was probably warmer than the interior of that teeny thing.  
  
But then, Chase seemed to _live_ there. Maybe it had some kind of…‘bigger on the inside’ thing going on? Or at least _nicer_ on the inside. Surely it wasn’t as ‘peasant chic’ as it looked.  
  
Either way, Chase was willingly inviting him into his home and Jack wasn’t sure he _could_ turn down a courtesy like that, not with his…past experiences in mind.  
  
 _And hey,_ he thought, _at least if I have door trouble this time, it’s just a tapestry door. What’s it gonna do, rat-tail me?_  
  
That in mind, he graciously replied, “Love to,” and gestured that Chase should lead the way.  
  
As it turned out, it was…pretty much exactly how it looked on the outside.  
  
Little, simple, _Spartan._ There was a sleeping pallet laid out on the dirt floor, a little fire pit, a small table with a few ceramics on it; a water pitcher, cups, bowls, that sort of thing. Aside from those and a few personal effects, that was all.  
  
Jack took a seat on the floor near the table, mind boggling. Thankfully, he wasn’t too distracted to lie through his teeth.  
  
“Nice place you got here.”  
  
Chase took it at face value. “Thank you. I built it myself.” He didn’t sit though, still moving about.  
  
Jack watched curiously but said nothing as he poured water into two of the earthenware cups, water which immediately bubbled as it was flash-boiled by—most likely—some kind of magic. It only occurred to Jack as Chase procured a small greenish brick and toasted it in the palm of his hand that Chase had been the dragon of fire back in the day. Apparently he hadn’t let his element go rusty in the time since.  
  
He still had his super-strength too, and one quick squeeze had the tiny brick crushed into powder, which was distributed evenly between the cups.  
  
Jack was handed a stick as one of the cups was nudged toward him and Chase finally sat.  
  
“You may stir it while it cools a bit,” he said, doing the same for his own cup. “The current trend is to whisk it, but I’m not overly fond of the froth.”  
  
Jack did as he was told and then raised the cup to his nose, trying to figure out just what he’d been handed.  
  
He didn’t have to spend long guessing. “Tea,” he said aloud and was again struck by how _off_ this all was. Chase Young had invited him into his homely little hovel and _made him tea._  
  
What was going on here?  
  
“You know of it,” Chase noted. “I admit, I’m surprised it’s still relevant in the future you come from.”  
  
“Really?” Jack asked, distracted and now surprised himself.  
  
“Tea as a beverage is very new,” Chase explained. “It’s been used medicinally in the past, but it’s only recently begun to spread. Right now, it’s…trendy, I believe is the best word.”  
  
That made Jack grin. “Yeah,” he said wryly, “it, uh…it stays that way. It branches out from here to…pretty much everywhere, so if you’re expecting it to fade out, no such luck.”  
  
Chase sipped his tea consideringly. “I suppose,” he decided, “there are worse trends to catch on.”  
  
“Very true,” Jack agreed, thinking of several (modern) fads that he’d be horrified to learn had any real longevity. His own tea looked to have cooled enough by then so he took a careful sip. It was actually decent, the flavor smoky and only a tad stronger than he usually preferred. “Now, tea _brewing,_ ” he went on, “that undergoes some changes. This is actually the first time I’ve even seen a tea brick.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
Chase seemed curious and Jack really couldn’t see how fore-knowledge on this particular topic could screw up the future, so he said, “Loose leaf is generally thought of as the best way to do it, but before that was easily possible and if you’re not very elitist about it, you can go with these…well,” he spared a hand to gesture, approximating the size of a tea bag, “little paper-y bags that have the leaves _in_ them.”  
  
Just as Jack was about to start describing the concepts of filter paper and infusers, the cloth over the door suddenly flapped with a strong gust of wind. It was brief, but the air it let in was bitingly cold and Jack paused to adjust his collar again to block the breeze.  
  
Chase noticed and stood before Jack could say another word.  
  
“Forgive me,” he said, grabbing hold of the tapestry and tying it off to fixtures along the door frame for a more complete seal against the cold. “One of the benefits of my transformation all those years ago is a resistance to temperatures. I don’t notice anything but the extremes and I sometimes forget that’s not true of everyone.”  
  
Well. That was downright _mannerly._ Of _Chase Young._  
  
Jack was starting to feel more than a little weirded out, tried to cover it with a cursory, “Thanks.”  
  
Then he paused as something occurred to him.  
  
“Wait. If you’re impervious to most temperatures,” he wondered, waving at the door fixtures, “why even have those?”  
  
Chase smirked. “You _are_ perceptive.”  
  
Jack had to sip his tea to hide a smile.  
  
“ _I’m_ impervious,” Chase continued, “but my wife was not.”  
  
And _there_ was the spit-take.  
  
Although to be perfectly fair, it was a little more subtle than a spit-take. Mostly, it consisted of Jack choking loudly on his tea and alternating between coughing and sputtering for a few seconds until he thought he could speak.  
  
“Wife?” That was no good, way too high-pitched. Jack cleared his throat and tried again. “You. You’re…you’re married.”  
  
Chase’s moderate concern seemed reserved for Jack’s breathing malfunction and not his broken brain.  
  
“I _was_ married,” he said slowly. “But yes.”  
  
The tense correction managed to kick Jack’s brain back into gear. “Oh. So then…she’s…”  
  
“Dead,” Chase finished. “Some time ago.”  
  
“Oh,” Jack said again. That was all he said for a moment, trying to just…process.  
  
Chase was married. Chase Young was married, to some random mortal woman that he’d lived in ordinary, domestic, marital bliss with, in this little shack for god knows how long until she died.  
  
Briefly, Jack felt a flare of jealousy for the nameless ghost of a woman who’d had Chase that way, exactly the way Jack had wanted him—exactly the way he couldn’t even hope to have him right now—apparently for _years_.  
  
The jealousy stayed brief, though. Whoever she had been, she wasn’t anymore. She was dead and gone and the immortal, soulless Chase was now forever lost to her.  
  
…And she was forever lost to Chase.  
  
Was _that_ what Jack was here for? Some kind of…grief counseling? Had Chase really been that attached to her and now he needed to be consoled or something?  
  
Even as Jack felt grateful the mystery lady wasn’t still alive to make it _marriage_ counseling, it still didn’t sit right with him. What kind of Heylin badass played house like this anyway?  
  
It was just too weird, far too weird for Jack to even comment on. What came out of his mouth was just a trite, “I’m sorry for your loss.”  
  
“Don’t be. It was hardly a loss.”  
  
Not grief counseling, then, and _Thank fuck,_ Jack thought to himself.  
  
It was enough that Chase was living like a…like a _peasant_ for some reason. He didn’t think he could handle it if Chase got _weepy_ on him, too.  
  
Still, it left Jack in the position of not knowing what he was here to do, or how the hell he was supposed to approach this.  
  
“So…” he tried, hoping to fish for information. “I…take it wasn’t a love-match.”  
  
Chase’s short bark of laughter was answer enough. “Convenience, more like,” he said. “Both of us were what you would call ‘unmarriageable.’”  
  
Jack frowned at that, trying to puzzle out Chase’s meaning. Nothing was forthcoming, so Jack set his cup down and leveled, “Okay, this might be one of those things that’s different in the future so… Unmarriageable how?”  
  
Chase was gorgeous, and he was _Chase_ on top of that. What was unmarriageable about him?  
  
Chase’s expression was vaguely curious, but he asked no questions. Instead, he explained matter-of-factly, “I’m clanless. I have little money to my name, and it’s a name no one’s heard of, besides.”  
  
Oh. Oh god. That explained ‘umarriageable,’ but the more Jack heard, the less it sounded like…well, like Chase.  
  
 _Poverty **and** obscurity? This really **is** starting to feel like Bizarro World._  
  
“And her?” Jack asked instead of voicing that thought.  
  
“Shun-Heng was a prostitute.”  
  
Jack was glad he’d put down his tea for that one. “Oh.”  
  
“Not a very high-class one, either,” Chase continued. He was apparently unaware of the crumbling state of Jack’s sanity. “She couldn’t even write until I taught her, and even then, her poetry was never any good. Still,” he added thoughtfully, “she was beautiful and well-mannered. Most importantly, she had no family to claim, either.”  
  
That part, Jack understood. A lone woman had no family to claim a bride price for her, and no patriarchs to forbid her to marry less-than-respectable men. It probably also helped that of all her potential (long-term) suitors, Chase would be the least likely to attach any kind of shame to her occupation.  
  
“Makes sense,” Jack offered helplessly.  
  
“I made her an offer,” Chase said. “If she married me, I promised her she would never need to work another day in her life—on her back _or_ with tools—and she agreed. I found this place, built the house, worked the farm. Time passed…”  
  
“And then she got old and died on you, and here we are,” Jack concluded.  
  
Chase nodded.  
  
Decades and decades of marriage summed up into a couple of sentences. It must have been beyond mundane if that was all that could be said about it.  
  
Jack struggled to find something interesting to ask about. “Shun-Heng… She never wondered why you weren’t growing old _together_?”  
  
“She must have,” Chase said, actually physically shrugging. “She was poor, not a fool. The tilling and the harvest came too easily to me.”  
  
“Enhanced strength will do that.”  
  
“That it will,” Chase agreed, “but there were other clues, I’m sure. It’s not exactly typical for a woman’s husband to sometimes return home with a fresh auroch carcass slung over his shoulders.”  
  
Well, that was a mental image. All of a sudden, Jack was picturing it: Chase hauling the massive bovine home like it was completely normal, Shun-Heng standing in the doorway, red-faced, yelling, ‘What the _hell,_ husband?!’  
  
Jack couldn’t help but snicker, and Chase’s lips twitched upwards in an answering grin.  
  
“I’m an apex predator,” he said, a note of abashed humor in his voice. “I have cravings. I can’t subsist wholly on millet.”  
  
It was on the tip of Jack’s tongue to ask, _Then why were you trying to?_ but he pushed it down. “And it never occurred to you to just try and barter for meat with your nearest neighbors, or something?”  
  
“It occurred. It simply requires being on good terms with those neighbors.”  
  
Jack perked up. “And…you were on _bad_ terms with them?”  
  
Chase huffed out a breath. “The local landlord decided to ‘branch out,’” he said with an audible sneer. “He said he wanted to annex my land, that my household was far too small to warrant so much space.”  
  
“That would’ve gotten you some neighbors,” Jack said.  
  
“Too many,” Chase replied. “And it also would’ve gotten me a master. Another heel to be crushed under. I think I’ve had enough of those.”  
  
 _That._ That sounded like the Chase Jack knew, proud and superior and alpha male in every possible way.  
  
A small thrill of excitement bubbled up in Jack’s chest and he leaned forward, just a little. “He didn’t get his way, did he?”  
  
“No,” Chase smirked and the wicked flash of fang lifted Jack’s mood even higher. “He sent messengers several times, but I handled them. I always told Shun-Heng to wait inside, but it would’ve been hard to ignore all the snarling. And the _screaming._ ”  
  
Jack was beyond relieved to hear Chase talk like that. He sounded like himself again, _finally,_ after all this boring talk of pedestrian things like marriage and farming. To hear him speaking of threats and putting uppity mortals in their place…  
  
It was like the dragonlord-to-be was still in there somewhere, even under the pointless peasant shell.  
  
It was good to hear from that side again and Jack grinned, laughing softly. “All that and the wife never asked any questions?”  
  
“Never,” Chase replied. “I treated her far too well. She lived _very_ comfortably. Another man would’ve put her to work alongside him, or reduced her to breeding stock. Why would she have jeopardized such a life?”  
  
Jack snagged at the phrase ‘breeding stock,’ abruptly caught on its implications. Chase had been a married man for decades, one that had presumably had sex with his female wife at least once in all that time.  
  
All of a sudden, all Jack could think of was the era; specifically the fact that currently, effective birth control was a _long_ way off from being a thing.  
  
It was distressingly possible—probable, even—that Chase had _offspring._  
  
 _Oh god, please, no._  
  
Jack couldn’t fathom why the idea of Chase having children with someone had never occurred to him before, in all the years of having known the man. He was eternally young and beautiful, and had existed that way for centuries before brand name condoms, so it actually made more sense than not for him to have a few bastards somewhere.  
  
It was just…Chase didn’t seem the _type,_ to be a responsible father _or_ an irresponsible warlord. On top of everything else weird today, trying to picture Chase willingly taking on the burden of a child or ignoring a potential future threat was pushing Jack closer to brain-brokenness once again.  
  
But then he stopped himself. Something about Chase’s tone of voice, the way he’d said ‘breeding stock’ like the very idea of it was offensive…  
  
Chase _might’ve_ just meant it was disgusting to use a woman solely for her reproductive capabilities (and he probably meant that _too,_ the forward-thinking son of a bitch), but Jack allowed himself to hope.  
  
“So,” he said, trying to sound as casual and uninvested as possible, “I guess you two never had kids then.”  
  
The word ‘no’ had never sounded so beautiful to Jack as it did when it came out of Chase’s mouth just then.  
  
Jack didn’t exactly have anything _against_ guys with kids. He’d ogled his fair share of DILFs, but Chase was a whole different ballgame. If _he_ had kids, especially so far back in history, he could have entire lineages out there spread all across the globe by the time Jack existed. Jack could even be a _result_ of one of those lineages if just one distant ancestor got it on with somebody who had a smidgen of dragonlord-DNA in them.  
  
He was fine with a lot of kinks, but incest, even centuries-distant incest, was where Jack drew the line.  
  
Jack tuned back in just in time to hear Chase saying, “I made no effort to prevent them, but we never actively tried for children either. I suspect she was barren, or that the Lao Máng Lóng robbed me of the ability.” He looked down at the cup in his hands for a moment, apparently unaffected. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever know which, but children simply…didn’t happen.”  
  
“Did you…” Jack hesitated to ask, daunted by the answer and what it could mean. “Did you actually want any?”  
  
“No, not really,” Chase said, and aside from the fact that it was a hilariously blasé attitude towards creating another human being, it was also one less thing for Jack to worry about. “I’d prepared myself should we have had any, of course, but in the end…” Chase paused as if considering something concerning. “Maybe it was for the best that we didn’t. Now that I think on it.”  
  
Jack had no doubt that Chase was now probably thinking something along the lines of what he had been thinking only moments ago. A child was a commitment, a child was a responsibility, a child with your own superhuman genes could end up a pretty damn big threat to you if they were so inclined later.  
  
 _Probably would’ve been good to think about that **before** this very moment._  
  
Jack very carefully kept that snideness out of his voice. “Yeah, I gotta say, I really can’t picture you changing a diaper.”  
  
Chase’s nose automatically wrinkled. His disgusted, “ _Ugh,_ ” really said it all.  
  
And right there, the question had just gotten too big for Jack to ignore.  
  
“So, you know I gotta ask now. If you didn’t want kids…and you weren’t in love with Shun-Heng…why even do all that?”  
  
Chase simply looked at him, like he didn’t understand the question. Jack elaborated, “Marrying her. Building this house and the farm out there and running the risk of children happening. It doesn’t sound like you wanted any of it.”  
  
At that, Chase’s gaze dropped to his cup. He was frowning and completely silent, but Jack was more than willing to wait.  
  
If there was an explanation for all this, he _needed_ to hear it.  
  
Finally, Chase sighed. “I was directionless after…Bean left,” he confessed. “I didn’t know what to do with myself. Drinking the soup effectively cut every tie I had—the temple, my friends, even my family. Everyone but Hannibal, and I haven’t seen him since the day I drove him off.”  
  
Jack could see that. It was just Bean’s style to take a request to be left alone as literally as possible and then force his wayward apprentice into the position of having to come crawling back to him lest he flounder utterly in social isolation.  
  
His mistake had been in not counting on how stubborn that apprentice could really be.  
  
“I couldn’t go back to him,” Chase said, confirming Jack’s thoughts, “but I couldn’t go back to anything else, either. With nothing to claim as my own, I couldn’t even move forward.”  
  
“What did you do?” Jack asked.  
  
“I wandered awhile. Sometimes I would find work that was available to keep me busy and earn a bit, other times I would just live off the wilderness. Eventually, I made my way north, and by then,” he scoffed, “I was going on fifty.”  
  
“Didn’t you have any kind of plan?”  
  
“Not really. I think I was…killing time. More than once, I thought of summoning Bean again.” Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but just as soon as Chase admitted it, he was shaking his head, looking disgusted with himself. “Gods, though,” he said, “I couldn’t do that. Not after the way we parted. It would’ve been exactly what he wanted me to do. But I couldn’t keep on as I was, I had to do _something._ ”  
  
“And that something was getting married.” It made…well, no, it _didn’t_ make sense, not really. Chase’s ‘limitations’ were mostly superficial; could’ve been circumvented easily with subterfuge, charm, petty theft, even.  
  
And that was assuming Chase wasn’t in the mood to just pick up and go somewhere—anywhere else. Even now in the 7th century, families were important, but nowhere so much as here in China. Europe and its nations were far more forgiving of nobodies and self-starters than anywhere else in the world at this time, but it sounded like Chase hadn’t even considered it as an option.  
  
Chase hadn’t considered _anything_ as an option, apparently. He’d just laid down and accepted his fate.  
  
It was…pathetic.  
  
“I didn’t see many options open to me,” Chase was saying. “I was bored and unsatisfied.” Nothing in the world could’ve stopped the nasty thought that ran through Jack’s mind: _God, no shit._ “Domesticity is a time-honored tradition, to say the least. I suppose I thought there must be _something_ in it, having a home and a family.”  
  
It took a lot of willpower not to blurt out his next thought. _Jesus **Christ,** Chase, you let **peer pressure** get to you?_ There might have been just a bit of bite in Jack’s tone as he said, “Guess it didn’t pan out that way.”  
  
Chase didn’t seem to notice the tone, too wrapped up in his wallowing. “You’re here, aren’t you?” he said in response to Jack’s comment. “It was never quite enough, but I tried. I tried for sixty years and Shun-Heng is gone now, but I’m still here.” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t process it. “I’m 109 years old, and I’m still _here._ ”  
  
“You signed on for immortality. Do you regret it now?” and that time, it was _more_ than a little snappish.  
  
By Chase’s mildly startled expression, he’d heard it that time. The question gave him pause though, as if it were something that hadn’t even crossed his mind. “No,” he said, and at least there was that. “No, of course not, I…. I just don’t think I realized then, exactly how _long_ forever is. I just…don’t know what to do next.”  
  
Finally, with that pitiable, utterly toothless comment, it was more than Jack could silently bear.  
  
He broke.  
  
“More than you’re doing _now,_ I hope!”  
  
Chase definitely hadn’t been expecting that response and was now looking at Jack with wide eyes. “What?”  
  
“Come _on,_ Chase,” he snapped, “you’re doing nothing! You’re, you’re just spinning your wheels! You’re _stagnating_!”  
  
Chase, caught off guard though he was, quickly straightened, attempting to protest, “I—”  
  
Jack didn’t let him finish. “No, don’t even bother,” he cut in, not wanting to hear whatever excuse was on the tip of Chase’s tongue. “Since when are you _mediocre_ like this?”  
  
That got Chase’s back up. “Excuse me?” he demanded, offense dripping from his tone.  
  
It was the lordliest Jack had seen the man all day and far from being intimidating, it only made Jack want to push harder—to see more of the _real_ Chase.  
  
“Have you got a better word for it?” he demanded right back. “Boring? Pedestrian? _Third-rate_?” Chase scowled, obviously provoked, and Jack didn’t let up. “Chase, you’re _subsistence farming._ You live in a _hovel_ with protections from _peace and prosperity gods_ around the door, and you’re still calling yourself Heylin?”  
  
Chase’s shoulders went back, his chest held forward. The alpha male in him was leaking through again. “Anyone may petition such gods. That much doesn’t make me Xiaolin,” he proclaimed, his posture daring Jack to disagree with him.  
  
Jack was all too happy to. “Maybe not,” he said, “but are _you_ ‘anyone’? Just some typical peasant farmer in the middle of nowhere? Is _that_ what you turned Heylin for? Did you really sell your soul to be _average_?”  
  
“No!” The denial was instant, full of contempt.  
  
It was how Jack knew that this wasn’t a total lost cause.  
  
He kept pushing.  
  
“So then what are you _doing_?” He shook his head. “No, better yet—what have you _done_? It’s been almost ninety years since the last time I saw you. Have you accomplished _anything_ since then? ‘cause I gotta say, it doesn’t look like it to me.”  
  
Something dark flickered in Chase’s expression and in his peripheral vision, Jack thought he saw the shadows in the hut doing the same. “Watch your tone,” Chase warned him, mouth tight.  
  
Distantly, Jack realized he was wandering into dangerous territory, prodding a beast that was certainly much safer left in hibernation.  
  
Deep down, though, he knew Chase had been asleep for too long. He was _right,_ here, and Chase needed to realize that.  
  
“Why?” Jack asked, feigning simple curiosity. “You don’t like being talked down to?” Chase’s jaw tightened. Jack remained utterly cavalier as he concluded, “Maybe you shouldn’t make it so easy.”  
  
Jack flinched involuntarily at a sudden clattering noise. His eyes were drawn first to the teacup spilling out onto the floor, and then across from him again, _upwards._  
  
Chase was standing— _looming_ over him, looking utterly _furious._ Aside from the subtle trembling of his clenched fists, he was frighteningly still, like a predator about to strike. Hesitantly, Jack met the glaring eyes in his shadowed face and froze.  
  
Those eyes were glowing, burning with the supernatural anger of a livid dragon.  
  
“Would you care to explain that comment, _Jack_?”  
  
The guttural growl that Chase put to his name seemed to finally kick-start Jack’s self-preservation instincts. The situation hit all at once and it was all Jack could do to hold a poker face at the realization that he had deliberately pissed off _Chase Young_ and the only thing standing between them was a flimsy little table.  
  
Jack wouldn’t even have time to run.  
  
For a second, he felt a quail of real fear all the way down to his core…  
  
And then he swallowed it down.  
  
Chase was scary, but this was _important,_ way too important for backtracking and apologizing for the sake of cowardice. Jack _had_ to make this point, for the sake of his future, but also for Chase.  
  
From what Jack had heard of the past eighty-eight years, Chase really, _really_ needed to hear this.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Jack stood too, just as bold and firm on the outside as he really felt a moment ago. He squared his shoulders, powered through the fear, and said, “I’ll gladly explain.”  
  
The fierce glower aimed at him faltered suddenly, which made perfect sense considering he’d said it in English.  
  
Jack switched easily back to Chinese, calmly asking, “Do you know what language that was?”  
  
Chase’s mouth opened automatically, but it was readily apparent that he had no answer to give. He paused, consternation replacing the rage on his face, and Jack relaxed just a little.  
  
Vindication lent him strength. “Did you know,” he began, “that there are places out there where people believe there’s only one God? That in some parts of the world, black is worn to funerals instead of white? Could you have guessed that even now, there’s whole societies of people out there that live their entire lives without giving so much as a thought to ghosts and spirits?”  
  
Chase blinked, yet more aggression leaving his posture as he tried to process the ideas Jack had thrown at him, utterly alien to everything he’d lived with for more than a century.  
  
To Jack, it was as good as confirmation—Chase had never gone outside of China. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.  
  
“There’s a whole world out there and you’ve never even left the country,” he said. “I didn’t think so. You don’t know anything, Chase. You’re _ignorant._ ”  
  
Jack saw the jibe hit home. Chase tensed all over, fists balled again, and a growl made its way past his throat, but it only made Jack relax more.  
  
For all that, Chase didn’t say or do a damn thing. He was realizing Jack had a point.  
  
Now that he was making a real impact, there was no reason for the hard sell. Jack was more than okay with easing back a little.  
  
“It doesn’t _have_ to be that way,” he said, gently in comparison to his earlier brusqueness. Chase wasn’t looking at him, though, and he still wasn’t saying anything. Jack somewhat awkwardly tried, “Ignorant isn’t the same as stupid. You’re not stupid.”  
  
That got Chase to sneer and all of a sudden he was moving, pacing around the shack. He looked very much like a tiger trapped in a too-small cage. “The past years would suggest otherwise, wouldn’t they?”  
  
“No.” His answer was immediate and honest. “Chase, you’re not…you just…” Jack sighed. “You just got stuck. You… I mean, it sounds like you’ve been thinking like you’re still mortal, and that trapped you.”  
  
It felt like a weird about-face on Jack’s part, backing down so suddenly and making excuses for the very behavior he was trying to snap Chase out of, but… He didn’t want to push Chase anymore than necessary. He didn’t _enjoy_ it by any means.  
  
And besides that, it seemed like Jack had more than made his point. Chase wouldn’t be nearly as agitated (pacing, for god’s sake) now if he hadn’t.  
  
Jack tried again. “Of course you’re not gonna get anything important done if you’re going about it like you only have a set number of years to work with. That’s just a mindset; you can break out of that.”  
  
It looked like it was Chase’s turn to be snappish, and he whirled around to glare at Jack again. “How?” he spat angrily. “It’s beyond obvious I haven’t managed it yet!”  
  
Jack found that he really didn’t like self-deprecation on Chase. If his mission before was to galvanize Chase out of that…funk he was in, now it was to give him his ambition back.  
  
“You will. I’ve met the you that’s done it.”  
  
Chase paused, possibly thrown by the hard note in Jack’s voice: total confidence.  
  
But he still didn’t look convinced.  
  
Jack sighed. “If I’d shown up earlier,” he lamented, “I could’ve told you right at the beginning. This,” he gestured vaguely around them, “wasn’t ever gonna work for you. It could never give you what you want.”  
  
Chase was watching him still, but his expression was unreadable. Eventually, he tilted his head just so. “And what is it I want?” The doubtful _according to you_ went unsaid.  
  
But Jack knew damn well what Chase wanted, possibly even better than _this_ Chase knew himself.  
  
“Power,” he said. “Prestige. Fame and culture and luxury, like you’d have never had before the soup.” Jack saw the spark light in Chase’s eyes and knew he was getting somewhere. “ _That’s_ what you sold your soul for, not _this._ You still want those things, don’t you?”  
  
“Of course I do,” Chase said, but nothing else.  
  
Jack cautiously edged a little closer. “Now that you’ve done it…did you like the normal way?” he wondered. “The pretty wife and the plot of land and the thought of maybe having kids someday. Did any of it fulfill you?”  
  
Chase’s mouth jerked and soon enough, he was shaking his head. “It made my skin crawl.”  
  
Jack nodded his approval. “Because you’re better than normal,” he said without an ounce of surprise. “I _know_ you are, and you know it too. You just…can’t stay here.” He wasn’t quite sure himself if he meant the shack of a house or the province or even China itself. He also wasn’t sure it mattered which. “If you want to _be_ better, you have to _do_ better.”  
  
Chase breathed evenly for a moment, his eyes falling shut. To Jack, it looked like he was centering himself. Sure enough, with one last deep exhale Chase’s entire bearing relaxed.  
  
“You’re right,” he said at last. “You’re completely right.”  
  
When Chase looked up again, Jack had to quash the urge to shiver, but not from fear.  
  
Chase looked confident, his expression one of calm determination. It was a familiar expression, one that Jack saw in his own present whenever the dragonlord wanted something it would take real effort to get.  
  
It was the pure, cold willpower of a calculating schemer and it made Jack want to fawn all over him like a damn groupie.  
  
 _I **knew** you were still in there._  
  
“I can do nothing here,” Chase declared, so boldly that Jack had to grin. “I have no lineage, no wealth, no education.”  
  
It was an admission of disadvantage, but Jack’s good mood stayed because it _wasn’t_ an admission of helplessness. “So get out of here and go get some,” Jack coolly suggested. “You’re an immortal Heylin mage, who the hell’s gonna stop you?”  
  
All the money, governments, and politics in the world weren’t enough to keep a guy like Chase from going anywhere he wanted to go.  
  
Chase was clearly onto the same line of thinking. “Yes. Yes, that’s perfect,” and the metaphorical gears were turning lightning fast. “Foreigners can learn much from eager tour guides and gracious hosts.”  
  
“Much easier to pick up new things when everyone’s clamoring to teach you,” Jack agreed.  
  
“Better yet,” Chase continued, “nothing about me will be verifiable abroad. I can claim wealth and status and no one will be able to prove otherwise.”  
  
“Stakes are low even _if_ you’re found out,” Jack added. “What’s the worst anyone can do? Imprison you? Execute you?”  
  
“They can _try,_ ” Chase drawled. “It’s ideal. I can make a name for myself that way. I can build on myself and my reputation until my claims become truth.”  
  
“And you’ve got all the time you need for it.” Jack chuckled at a stray thought and this time, he voiced it. “You know, there’s a saying for this in the future: fake it ‘til you make it.”  
  
“An excellent saying. I’ll do exactly that. Amongst those who’d know no better, I’ll pass myself off as a wealthy and educated foreign gentleman. By the time I come back here…” His smirk was utterly wicked. “I _will be._ ”  
  
A rush of relief softened the edge of Jack’s smile. “Now _that’s_ a plan.”  
  
Chase turned to him, bridging the minimal distance between them with a single step. The fire in his eyes was enthralling, and more than enough to hold Jack in the seconds it took for hands to curl firmly around his biceps.  
  
“Jack,” Chase said with undeniable warmth, “you _are_ a genius.”  
  
Jack’s eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. He immediately tried to engage it in useful speech production to cover some of his disbelief. “Aw, not…I mean, I, not really, I…”  
  
He was failing.  
  
 _For fuck’s sake,_ he berated himself, _this is not the time for ‘Senpai Noticed Me’! **Focus**!_  
  
Jack cleared his throat and was much more poised as he finished, “I just gave you a pep talk. _You_ came up with the rest.”  
  
Thankfully, if Chase had noticed Jack’s awkward sputtering from before that part, he graciously didn’t call attention to it.  
  
“You were right,” he said simply. “I _was_ stagnating. I was doing nothing but wasting time, thinking like an old man but,” he smiled, “I’m young. _Too_ young to be so stolid, I think, especially with all I don’t know and haven’t done. You reminded me of that.” Slyly, pointedly, he added, “Quite _brazenly,_ at that.”  
  
Jack very distinctly felt his face heat. “Sorry,” he said, feeling suddenly sheepish. He had _yelled_ at Chase, essentially told him to _man up._ “I didn’t mean to…say it _that_ way, I just…and you were just…uh.”  
  
 _So much for poised._  
  
He gave up with a sigh and another, “Sorry.”  
  
But Chase was shaking his head. “Don’t be,” he assured, looking amused. “You certainly didn’t say anything I didn’t need to hear.”  
  
“Well…maybe I still could’ve said it…better.”  
  
“More tactfully, you mean?” Chase wondered. “In fairness, you probably couldn’t have. Tact has never gotten my attention the way a challenge can. You challenged me to do better. I intend to.”  
  
Jack was glad to hear it: mission accomplished.  
  
“And besides, who’s to say I _needed_ anything more than a ‘pep talk’ from a friend?”  
  
…oh. _Oh._  
  
That was…unexpected.  
  
But hardly unwelcome.  
  
Chase had said ‘friend.’ For whatever reason, he counted _Jack_ as his _friend._  
  
Jack honestly didn’t think he had any idea what to do with that information; what to do with a Chase Young willing to be his friend after years of dealing with one determined to hold him at arm’s length.  
  
But it did make his chest feel warm and his heart like it was doing something medically inadvisable, so the smile he directed up at Chase was really unavoidable.  
  
Jack remained happily speechless even as one of Chase’s hands left his arm and the other slid down to his wrist. Honestly, he was only half-aware of Chase pulling him around the hut as he collected a handful of belongings—a satchel of coins, a comb, his sandals—and then undid the tapestry and tugged him right out the door.  
  
It was only when the dusk air of almost-winter slapped him across the face that Jack regained enough presence of mind to ask, “Where are we going?”  
  
“West,” Chase answered vaguely. “Eventually.”  
  
“And for now?”  
  
“For now…” Chase turned so they were facing the hut and for some reason, it struck Jack as theatrical. “ _This._ ”  
  
Jack startled, jumping closer to Chase as with a snap of the man’s fingers, the entire building was engulfed in flames before them.  
  
“ _Why._ ”  
  
“You said yourself I have to leave here,” Chase shrugged, his face betraying the subtle pleasure he took in Jack’s alarm. “There’s no better time to go than now.”  
  
“And you had to set the place _on fire_ for that?!” Jack demanded, perhaps in a higher pitch than he’d meant.  
  
“Obviously,” said Chase. “If I simply left it, it could be taken. I built it: if I’m not going to be using it, why should anyone else?”  
  
Selfish toddler logic. Of course.  
  
(Jack pointedly did not think of the self-destruct feature he built into all of his technology for that very reason.)  
  
“Okay, great, your epic journey of self-discovery begins now,” he grumbled. “I hope you’re at least planning on dropping me off at an inn or something first!”  
  
Chase started walking in an apparently random direction and Jack scurried after him.  
  
“Ahhh, for you, Jack?” Chase’s grin was unfairly charming, even in the low light. “I _suppose_ I could detour, briefly.”  
  
“How _kind_ of you.”  
  
“Isn’t it just?”  
  
Jack nearly retorted, but let out a laugh on a sigh instead.  
  
A sass battle with Chase? There was no _way_ he was going to win this one, and maybe that was okay.  
  
From what he’d heard, friends bantered all the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone interested, Shun-Heng essentially means 'agreeable constant.' Perhaps a mean irony, but who ever said I was nice?


	9. Trinkets and Schemes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chase shows off and works out what he needs to do next.

After laying down to sleep in a ramshackle inn whose owner was going to be peeved in the morning to find an empty bed and no one to charge for the stay, the next thing Jack was aware of was standing in a grassy field under full sunshine.  
  
The _next_ next thing he was aware of was a bestial snort much too close for comfort.  
  
He turned and flinched back a step to see a horse, pristinely white and clearly just as startled as he was. The animal reared its head, ears pricked forward as its hooves stamped backwards in the grass.  
  
Jack had no idea whatsoever how to approach a spooked horse. More importantly, he had no idea how to safely back _away_ from a spooked horse. He ended up doing the only thing he could.  
  
He froze.  
  
…Only to hear laughter from behind him.  
  
A hand gripped his shoulder and Jack looked up to see Chase reaching his other out to the horse. Chase only glanced at him briefly in return, mouth crooked in a fanged grin, before turning back to the present situation.  
  
“Easy, Janan,” he chuckled, fingers brushing the side of the beast’s mouth. It was a light touch, but to Jack’s surprise, the horse seemed to settle almost immediately. In short order, though its tail still flicked in agitation, Chase’s calm or his commanding presence or _something_ had the thing’s legs stilling and its haunches relaxing.  
  
Just _one_ faint touch of Chase’s hand and the beast was quick to decide that a wary look was all the guy popping out of thin air really merited.  
  
Jack had to admit, it was more than a little impressive.  
  
Chase broke into his starry-eyed admiration with a casually delivered, “You startled her.”   
  
Jack didn’t miss the amusement lingering in his tone. It made him just a tad huffy as he declared, “Well...she startled _me_!”  
  
If anything, that just seemed to add to Chase’s amusement. “Yes, I can see you’re both very traumatized. Perhaps someday you’ll be able to overcome this.”  
  
Jack huffed louder. “Sarcasm’s not necessary, thanks,” he muttered, only to jump as Chase grabbed his wrist and tugged it forward. “Hey, what—!”  
  
“Relax,” Chase said firmly. “I’m merely facilitating a proper introduction.”  
  
Jack stayed tense as the horse—Janan, apparently—craned forward towards his hand, nostrils flaring as she sniffed him. When Chase let go, Jack tried to keep as still as possible, but the mare apparently wasn’t to be spooked twice. She sniffed him a little longer, bumped his hand with her fuzzy gray muzzle, and then turned away and bent down to nibble at the grass.  
  
“Not so scary, is she?”  
  
“No, I guess not…”  
  
Chase came forward and stroked her haunch. Janan paid him no mind either. “Now, in full battle armor,” he added casually, “ _then_ she’s downright terrifying.”  
  
Jack snorted, totally unsurprised. “Of course you’ve got a war-horse,” he began and then stalled as he got his first good look at Chase.  
  
The horse was immediately forgotten.  
  
Chase looked surprisingly _good_ in European period attire. The black leggings alone probably would’ve made the outfit as far as Jack was concerned, but the intricately-patterned belted tunic of fine red silk was gorgeous on him, too.  
  
Jack had never seen Chase with his hair _up_ before either, but there it was: tied back in a strategically messy braid that hid the points of his ears and just looked damn sexy besides.  
  
The bronze Chase favored accented everything from buckles to clasps, but what really pulled it all together was the light traveling cloak he had draped about his shoulders like a nobleman’s cape; a bright, daffodil yellow.  
  
Or…wait, no. It was more like… _imperial_ yellow.  
  
 _Oh, you ballsy son of a bitch._  
  
“Nice cloak,” Jack smirked.  
  
“Thank you,” Chase said, his tone far too sly for the fashion choice to have been anything but purposeful.  
  
There was no _need_ to ask the question as they both knew the answer, but Jack lamp-shaded it anyway. “That color’s sort of…reserved for the Emperor, isn’t it?”   
  
Chase merely shrugged. “I may as well be of royal blood,” he declared. “It is not off-limits to me.”  
  
“That’s still the kind of thing could get you in trouble in China, you know.”  
  
That earned a scoff. “As if any mortal, royal or no, could cause trouble for _me._ Besides,” he added with a prideful tilt of his chin, “I have _earned_ this color.”  
  
Jack looked at Chase, _really._ At _him_ and not just his appearance. He saw the confidence in his bearing, had heard the lordliness in his speech, both exuding a casual superiority that was very familiar.  
  
With a rush of pleasure, Jack realized he couldn’t tell the difference between this Chase and the one of his future, aside from the lack of armor.  
  
 _Thank god. So far, so good._  
  
“Looks like you _have_ earned it,” Jack happily conceded. “We’re not in China anyway.” A simple look around at the foliage was enough to assume that much. “I guess you took my advice.”  
  
And maybe there was one more difference besides the armor because after staring at him for just a beat, Chase _smiled._  
  
“It was good advice,” he said. “And we are, in fact, in Thessaly.”  
  
“Greece?” It _did_ seem rather warm out. The Mediterranean was pretty warm.  
  
Chase nodded. “The same.”  
  
“And…what exactly are we doing in Greece?”  
  
“Nothing in particular,” Chase said airily. “Just taking in the local color, I suppose.”  
  
“The…” Jack trailed off, processing. Then, “You’re on _vacation_?”  
  
Chase grinned at him. “Essentially, yes. I’m only passing through, but I’d thought to enjoy it while I’m here.”  
  
Jack was too curious not to ask. “And what exactly does a guy like you do on vacation?”  
  
“Not long before you appeared, I was riding,” Chase said with a nod to Janan. “She was born to run. To be astride her on her best day…there’s nothing like it.”  
  
There was a mental image there that stalled Jack for a second, of Chase galloping along on that horse, the wind whipping his long braid with the glaring Grecian sun above him to catch and glint on every piece of metal he wore like fire.  
  
Jack felt heat in his cheeks and hoped he wasn’t flushing too obviously.  
  
Somehow though, the thought of Chase being a speed demon wasn’t at all surprising. It crossed his mind to try to use that in the future—it would be all too easy for Jack to curry a little favor with the warlord by building him custom motorcycles and other toys that could easily break the latest land and air speed records.  
  
“Sometime before that,” Chase continued, “I was enjoying a local beach. The waters in this part of the world are an exquisite shade of blue.”  
  
Jack fully expected another mental image from that, something along the lines of Chase scantily clad (or entirely naked) and soaking wet. Instead, he found himself picturing the water and how refreshing the cool, crisp cerulean would feel against his skin.  
  
Well. Maybe he was blushing for another reason. It really _was_ warm, certainly too warm for a full-length leather jacket.  
  
Jack tugged at his collar and was grateful that at least the humidity was low.  
  
“Sounds like fun,” Jack said in an effort to ignore the heat. “So you’re…what, visiting?”  
  
“Passing through,” Chase corrected. “I’ve been making my way back to China, actually.”  
  
“Oh…yeah?” Ignoring wasn’t working too well. Now that he was aware of it, all Jack could really think about was the heat; the sun beating down on him and the sticky feeling wherever his skin touched the leather that told him he was probably beginning to sweat.  
  
Chase hadn’t seemed to notice his preoccupation yet, though. “Gradually,” he said. “I could of course teleport and get there far quicker, but I decided on the scenic route.”  
  
“If you’re not in a hurry, you might as well, yeah,” Jack unthinkingly agreed. He picked at his sleeve and wondered if Chase would be overly offended if he told him to shut up for a second while he wrestled off his now-clingy coat.  
  
Probably.  
  
“Word reached me of some…interesting goings on there. Apparently someone has found a way to use fireworks offensively,” Chase was saying. “It would be negligent of me not to investigate the changing tide of weaponry—”  
  
“Oh, fuck it!” Jack blurted out, and Chase gave him a startled look before scowling at him. “No, sorry,” he added quickly, sheepishly, “I didn’t mean…um, just, hang on a sec…”  
  
Jack unzipped his coat and shrugged it off as quickly as possible, struggling a bit when he encountered the straps of his helipack but ultimately getting both to fall to the grass with a soft thump. He’d worry about them later.  
  
He ran his fingers through his hair with a(n only slightly exaggerated) sigh of relief at now only wearing a thin, sleeveless shirt. “Sorry,” he apologized again. “I was hot. Didn’t mean to be rude or anything.”  
  
Jack’s face still felt like it was a little pink, but no longer being wrapped in thick leather was an immediate improvement for the rest of him. He felt like he could _breathe_ again without being stifled, at least.  
  
There was also still the dampness from where his body had started to sweat—at the bend of his elbows, the hollow of his throat, his forehead just above his brow—but it was only a light sheen that felt _great_ when the breeze blew. As for the fact that it was _sweat_ and therefore kinda gross, maybe he could ask Chase to bring him by that beach he’d mentioned earlier before he had to Jump again.  
  
And that was about the moment that Jack realized Chase hadn’t said anything yet.  
  
Jack looked up to find Chase staring at him. His expression was unreadable.  
  
Jack hesitated, wondering if it was something he’d said… But no, Chase wouldn’t be that mad about an interruption, definitely not when he’d already apologized.  
  
He looked down at himself, checking that he hadn’t ripped or spilled something on his favorite not-quite-threadbare Frankenstein shirt, but it looked totally fine. He glanced at his bared arms too, but there was nothing there either, just his own paper-white flesh.  
  
Chase’s gaze was intense and it was starting to make Jack feel self-conscious. He hadn’t been weird about showing skin around other people since puberty, when everything was gangly and awkward. After that, the new hormones and the heavy lifting he did in his lab had gotten him some decently muscular arms.  
  
Certainly nothing so impressive as pythons, but maybe some kind of king snake? He didn’t do too badly.  
  
The longer the moment dragged on, though, the more that prepubescent insecurity started rearing its head again.  
  
 _I can’t look **that** much weirder without my coat…can I?_  
  
“Chase?” he tentatively asked.  
  
And just like that, Chase came back to himself. He blinked once, and suddenly he could meet Jack’s eyes again.  
  
“Your rudeness is excused,” he said coolly, curtly. “In any case, I am not traveling with any urgent purpose. Simply that I eventually reach China again.”  
  
Jack waited a beat, but apparently whatever thoughts Chase had been thinking about him, he was too decorous to think they needed to be said out loud.  
  
“That’s good,” Jack said, shrugging off the momentary weirdness as best he could. “It sounds like you… Well,” with a tinge of uncertainty, “that you’re doing alright.”  
  
“I would agree,” Chase said. “I think I’ve done _very_ well for myself in the time you’ve been gone.”  
  
“Do I even want to know how long this time?”  
  
“Probably not.” Chase smirked and told him anyway, “It’s been something like three centuries. I’d give you a more precise number, but I fear it may actually make your jaw hit the ground.”  
  
Jack’s mouth snapped closed. “That’s…” He struggled for something to say. “That’s a really long time.”  
  
“Actually, I’m getting used to it,” Chase told him genially. “You were right that my mortal mindset was holding me back. Once I was able to discard it, _that’s_ when I began accomplishing things.”  
  
Chase turned slightly, gesturing that Jack should walk with him. Automatically, Jack did for a few steps before he paused, glancing back at his coat and helipack on the ground and the sleek white mare still munching idly on the grass.  
  
“Should we be leaving that unattended?” he wondered.  
  
Chase waved him off. “Janan will not leave here without my permission and no one will disturb the field.”  
  
Jack frowned. “How can you possibly know that?”  
  
Chase responded with a _look,_ eyebrow raised and Jack knew the answer had something to do with magic.  
  
Hands raised in surrender, he resumed walking wherever it was Chase was leading.  
  
“I started,” Chase announced, “by teaching myself the local languages. Spoken dialects at first and then eventually, the written Latin. The latter required _uncomfortable_ amounts of time in monasteries, but for the language of the educated, it was a sacrifice I had to make.”  
  
Jack decided it wasn’t important to mention that Latin would (relatively) soon be on its way out, mutating into romance languages and even being replaced in writing by vernacular literature. Currently, it would still be very important and even into the present Jack knew, knowledge of Latin was something of a mark of status and culture.  
  
He just kept listening, strolling along (apparently aimlessly) by Chase’s side.  
  
“Once I could communicate fluently, it was easy. I formed connections, gained apprenticeships in every vocation I could, found tutors of the wealthy and coaxed them to teach me.”  
  
“And by ‘coax,’” Jack interrupted, “you mean with violence, right?”  
  
“Occasionally,” Chase all but shrugged. “Gold generally works quicker than violence, and it requires far less effort.”  
  
Jack grinned at the implication. “So you _have_ gold, then.”  
  
“What did you think the apprenticeships were for?” Chase wondered, grinning a bit himself. “As much as I value learning for learning’s sake, I also needed marketable skills to earn my way. It took me a few decades to get started, but I’ve amassed myself a sizeable fortune by now—gold and jewels and objects of a caliber the average man wouldn’t so much as _see_ in his entire life.”  
  
And yet Chase _owned_ it. He’d truly surpassed _average._  
  
“Congratulations,” Jack said, only distantly surprised at the sincerity in his own voice.  
  
Chase gave him a regal nod of acknowledgment, adding, “I suppose I also owe some of my success in wealth to what I won from fallen enemies.” At Jack’s look of confusion, Chase flashed a bit of fang. “Were you not aware of how war-torn the continent is at this time in your history?” he asked. “I can assure you, there’s been no shortage of petty warlords arrogant enough to attempt taking on the real thing. Their lands and less interesting belongings tend to fetch handsome prices.”  
  
“Sounds like you really _are_ having a good time, then.”  
  
“I am,” Chase agreed. “I’ve had the education of the upper class for a long time, but now with wealth, I can afford all the material trappings of aristocracy as well. I dress as one, I speak as one, I carry myself as one—for all intents and purpose, I _am_ nobility.”  
  
“Of course you are,” Jack agreed. “The Heylin Prince of Darkness.”  
  
Chase gave no verbal reply to that, but somehow Jack got the distinct impression that Chase found his confidence pleasing. Jack honestly didn’t see how he could have answered differently, though: how could anyone question the fact that this man was upper-echelon?   
  
“There’s just one thing I don’t get, though,” he said. “If you’re doing so well…why am I here?”  
  
The spell had never dropped him into a totally fine situation before. Every time he’d popped up in Chase’s life, it had been almost immediately apparent that there was a problem with Chase that he had to guide him through; something Chase was upset about or some big, obvious mistake he was making.  
  
So far, it looked like Chase was on the right track. As a mechanic, Jack didn’t know what to do with something that _wasn’t_ broken—aside from _not_ fixing it, of course.  
  
“I can’t imagine,” Chase replied, confirming Jack’s suspicions. “You are correct that I’m doing well, in all ways that come to mind. I’m hardly displeased to see you,” and there was a fizzing warmth in Jack’s chest he had to viciously tamp down, “but I can’t think what you’re meant to attend to.”  
  
“Huh. I gotta admit, I was hoping _both_ of us wouldn’t be stumped here…”  
  
It was an unpleasant reminder of how little Jack really knew about the spell that was dragging him through time. He’d determined what it was and what he needed to do entirely on circumstantial evidence. Every guess he’d made on how to proceed afterwards had been exactly that: a _guess._  
  
Lucky ones, obviously, since they’d gotten him this far, but Jack knew all too well that unnatural streaks of luck always hit a wall and hit _hard._  
  
“Unfortunately, it looks that way,” Chase said frankly. “There’s really nothing wrong. I am wealthy, educated, powerful…”  
  
“I know!” Jack agreed. “That’s great!”  
  
“I’ve even been planning for the centuries ahead, unlike the last time you came to me.”  
  
“Wow, really?” Chase was doing even better than Jack had thought if he was already starting to mastermind.  
  
“Yes. Perhaps it will not come _quickly,_ but I’m certain I can take Europe in hand, without aid.”  
  
“Yeah, you—” Jack cut himself off. “Wait…take Europe?”  
  
“It’s chaos here,” Chase said, gesturing sharply. “There’s barely any government _anywhere_ , it’s all ‘might makes right.’ Well, I have _more_ than enough might. _Someone_ ought to bring order and I _am_ a prince without a kingdom. It’s only natural.”  
  
“…Aha.”  
  
Jack thought he _may_ have found the problem.  
  
“Chase…” he began carefully. “You…can’t take over Europe.”  
  
“I definitely _can._ ”  
  
“No, I mean, of course you can, just, you’re not.” Jack stopped. Restarted. “You aren’t _supposed_ to, I don’t think.”  
  
Chase pivoted to face him and Jack belatedly realized they’d stopped walking. “You don’t _think_?” he echoed, a bite of incredulity in his tone. “Do I or do I not? ”  
  
“You don’t!” Jack said firmly. “Or, if you did, you got bored of it _really_ quickly and nobody anywhere in the world even recorded that it happened which, _unlikely._ ”  
  
Chase gave him an arch look, frigid enough that Jack flinched back in surprise. “Simply because you don’t know of it does not mean I won’t accomplish it.”  
  
Jack winced, recognizing too late there’d been more than a little snark in his reply. Much as Chase relied on it himself, nothing ruffled his feathers like getting it from someone else.  
  
(Jack used to curb himself so much more around Chase. How had a _week_ of hanging out with a younger Chase made him so comfortable that it just slipped out?)  
  
“It kinda does,” Jack said, apologetically this time and hoping Chase heard the difference. “It’s not a comment on you or your ability or anything, just, if I don’t remember it, you—”  
  
“And if I do it anyway? If I alter your future?”  
  
Jack’s heart skipped a beat. Before he could stop himself, his brain began to whirl with all the terrifying possibilities of future-altering and his total helplessness to prevent any of them.  
  
If Chase wasn’t just making an idle threat because Jack had spoken insolently…  
  
“Please don’t,” he managed to say, perhaps a little more like begging than he’d wanted. “Worst case scenario, that kind of thing, making yourself a despot or, or some sort of ultimate ruler, it draws a lot of attention to you. You get upstarts and, and dissenters and radicals trying to kill you, it’s a big hassle dealing with all that!”  
  
Jack had personal experience with that kind of mess. Maybe that would come through and give some credibility to his argument.  
  
He couldn’t really tell, not with Chase doing his ‘I am ticked off now, why are you bothering me’ poker-face. “And what do you perceive to be the _best_ case scenario, then?”  
  
“Best case scenario. Um.” Jack gave a short, guilty laugh. “Honestly, best case scenario, you take over Europe, then the world, everything works out great for _you_ and because my past was altered _that_ radically from what it was, _I_ more than likely cease to exist.”  
  
He was met with total silence on that.  
  
Jack laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know,” he said, self-deprecation in every word, “it’s kind of…blatant self-preservation on my part, not wanting you to do it. I know there’s not really anything I can do to stop you, just… You can’t blame me for trying to convince you, right?”  
  
The silence dragged on a little longer. Jack didn’t dare look up from his boots, too nervous about saying yet another wrong thing.  
  
“What else?”   
  
Jack nearly jumped at the sudden sound of Chase’s voice. “Uh. What?”  
  
“You said that ruling this continent would draw unwanted attention,” Chase reminded him, looking cool as a cucumber. “What else?” When Jack remained speechless for just a moment too long, he added pointedly, “ _Convince me._ ”  
  
“…oh. Oh!” Jack perked. “Well, there’s the attention for sure, yeah, and then there’s also, uh, the hassle. Ruling a whole continent, or a bunch, it’s a lot of work.”  
  
“Obviously.”  
  
“Yeah, and you can _do_ it, nobody’s questioning that part,” Jack didn’t doubt that for a second, “but why _should_ you?”  
  
Chase raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to go on.  
  
“All these people here,” he gestured vaguely, “they made their own problems. If none of these nations have any decent government in place, that’s on them. Why should it be up to you to come in here and fix it for them?”  
  
“It shouldn’t be,” Chase easily agreed. “But if it benefits me…”  
  
“Does it?” Jack wondered. “What would you really get out of it? Some income from your subjects, maybe, taxes and tributes and that kind of thing. The land would be yours, too, but pretty much in name only.”  
  
Chase tilted his head. “What do you mean?”   
  
“You just can’t be in enough places at once to rule such a big territory single-handedly,” Jack pointed out. “Even Alexander the Great used generals and you’d have to do something like that too—leave underlings behind to rule in your stead. Everywhere but the immediate radius of where you set up your base of operations, you won’t be in charge, you’ll be a distant figurehead.”  
  
Chase frowned. “You imply that my ‘generals’ would pursue their own agendas in my name. I would kill any who disobeyed me that way.”  
  
“Of course, but that means constant supervision. You have to be checking up on everyone you delegate even the slightest bit of power to, just to make sure they’re not going behind your back.”  
  
Jack remembered having a lot of problems with that in the alternate timeline. They were vague memories with a strange quality to them, like grasping at water whenever he tried to examine any part of them in detail. Jack put that down to the unusual time-circumstances under which they formed, but even blurry and with patches missing, he remembered enough.  
  
He’d been inexperienced in the beginning when he took over the world, thought delegating would give him some more free time. It had, but it had also made it a constant struggle for authority with arrogant subordinates who thought they knew better than their ‘kid’ of a boss.  
  
Jack didn’t remember what it was like to be the kind of person that was willing to kill at the slightest offense, but he knew he’d been that way in that life. There had been a lot of bloodshed before he’d done away with human minions altogether and just installed his robots everywhere—if nothing else, he could trust them to do exactly what he told them to do, and they never had any traitorous ambitions of their own.  
  
Which reminded him of another very good point.  
  
“I guess you wouldn’t have to be so vigilant if you used people you trust implicitly. Do you have any of those?”  
  
Chase didn’t answer that, but he didn’t have to. Of course there was no one Chase trusted that much, aside from maybe his own minions who were literally incapable of disobeying, and it didn’t seem like the warlord had collected any of them yet.  
  
Jack continued, vindicated. “Even if you find a way around that problem, your leisure time is _shot._ You’re so busy ruling everybody, suddenly you don’t have any time left over for what _you_ want to do. Can’t just go for a nice relaxing horse ride in Greece when you’re needed to make decrees and ratify laws and lord over all of Europe with an iron fist.”  
  
“True,” Chase conceded, and Jack was finally able to tell where he was leaning on the issue. Jack was _convincing_ him.  
  
Relieved, he added, “Plus, y’know, what does it _prove_ that you’ve conquered the world? That you can do it, really, but it’s mostly a political thing. You won’t get any stronger for it. You won’t be proving to anyone that you’re the best or the strongest; just that you’re in charge.”  
  
Chase gave a long, loud sigh and Jack was _sure_ he had him. “You make very sound arguments,” he murmured eventually. “You’ve clearly given it a lot of thought.”  
  
“Not really,” Jack admitted, deciding to take the chance of revealing too much. “Believe it or not, I’ve been down that road before.”  
  
“… _Really._ ”  
  
Jack snorted. “Thank you for your tact. Yes, I ruled the world once, in a—well no, I don’t think I can explain the circumstances, but that should be proof enough that you don’t need to be very impressive to pull it off.”  
  
Chase considered him shrewdly. Apparently, his story wasn’t as unbelievable as it sounded at first, or Chase could tell with reasonable certainty whether he was lying or not.  
  
He folded his arms over his chest and concluded, “So the difficulties you mentioned were problems you encountered in your rule.”  
  
“Yeah. Before it happened, ruling the world was kinda my one ambition as Heylin,” Jack’s mouth crooked in a cynical smirk, “so there’s no _small_ amount of irony in me telling you it’s not everything it’s made out to be. Actually getting to do it just made me realize it wasn’t what I was after.”  
  
And that was true enough. Evil or no, Jack didn’t think he liked what ruling the world had turned him into and it really had been _much_ more work than he’d thought, with nowhere near as much practical payout as he’d hoped. Now that he had another go at it, he didn’t think he’d try to repeat that mistake.  
  
What Chase didn’t need to know was that Jack wasn’t planning on abandoning the whole idea in general anytime soon, just changing his approach.  
  
Jack was pretty sure most of the hassle in tyranny was in having the official title. With a legitimate political position came the paperwork, the responsibility, the assassins and the paladins wanting to usurp him and rescue the world respectively.  
  
His thinking was that if he could make it _un_ official, it would be much more to his tastes. It would mean being more subversive than he was used to, but Jack had long been working up to something that would make him an invaluable resource to the entire world: someone to be respected and protected and paid ludicrous amounts of money in appeasement so that he’d stick around to do those invaluable things he was the best at.  
  
Jack was going to go public with some of his designs.  
  
The official release had been a few months off still when he’d been sent back into the past, but Jack knew it would go well. His skill in robotics and engineering was so far ahead of his time as to be written off by most of his would-be competitors as science fiction so he would likely blow everyone else in the field out of the water within a week, reducing them to copycatting him or begging him for a job. He’d be lauded in the media as a genius, a revolutionary, the Next Big Thing to attract employees, investors, and groupies from all over the planet.  
  
When he then let slip that he was working on some very promising things in clean energy and safe, cost-effective space travel, the human race would be all but prostrating themselves at his feet.  
  
The best part was that it had nothing to do with Shen Gong Wu and was all completely legal—just Jack tapping into the heretofore underutilized resource that was his crazy brain—so he wasn’t stepping on any Heylin toes and the Xiaolin couldn’t say shit to him.  
  
All Jack had to do now was make sure he got back to the present in one piece, and that meant making sure Chase wasn’t going to change things on him.  
  
“Honestly,” he said, “I don’t think ruling the world is really what _you’re_ after either.”  
  
Chase gave him a look, probably for the boldness of assuming to know what he wanted again, but he answered with a reluctant, “Perhaps you’re right.”  
  
When he turned on his heel and started walking again, Jack followed without needing to be asked.  
  
“That fact does leave me with an unfortunate problem, though.”  
  
Jack blinked. “Does it?”  
  
“I want to do more,” Chase said seriously, “I have accumulated much. I have bettered myself from what I was. I can go no farther here, lest I risk _stagnating_ again.”  
  
Jack heard the disdain in his voice and was comforted to realize he’d never find Chase living in unassuming poverty again. “That’s why you’re going back to China?” he asked.  
  
“Yes, but I was also going back to begin conquering on familiar soil. If that is not as feasible an option as I’d assumed, that leaves me,” Chase huffed, “right back where I started.”  
  
Chase stopped again and true to form, he had led them back to the clearing where Janan was now lying in the grass beside Jack’s discarded coat and helipack.  
  
 _Wow. Good to know Chase’s flair for the theatrical is well-developed right on schedule._  
  
To be totally honest, Jack wasn’t sure _what_ to say to that, though. He’d managed to make sure Chase became Chase, but apparently that only covered the first 400-something years of his life. Jack had no idea what Chase had spent the next millennium doing and couldn’t even begin to presume.  
  
“You’ll figure something out,” he tried lamely. “It’s not like you’re gonna backslide or anything, but…you know I can’t really _tell_ you what to do.”  
  
Chase’s answering smile was thin. “I appreciate your conviction,” was all he said and then he moved forward towards the resting animal.  
  
A sharp whistle had Janan getting to her hooves and though she was only sort of near his stuff, Jack swooped in to be sure it wasn’t stepped on.  
  
It was still far too warm out to put his coat back on, but the helipack was a familiar, comfortable weight against his back, and the coat wasn’t _too_ obtrusive draped over his arm.  
  
When he looked up again, Chase was bending to tighten a strap beneath the horse.  
  
Jack’s brain cycled quickly through a couple thoughts almost simultaneously: _Are we going somewhere?_ firstly, quickly followed by _Where did that saddle even **come** from?,_ before stuttering to a halt at, _Wow._  
  
It was a _very_ pretty saddle, with no bridle in evidence, but what would a guy like Chase with his easy (possibly telepathic) dominance over fellow beasts need with an actual physical tool of control? Janan probably just _knew_ what Chase wanted her to do and when, and the saddle was all Chase needed to ride her comfortably.  
  
And it was a _nice_ saddle. Fine, shiny black leather stitched together with pink silk thread, a match to the color of the plush saddle blanket beneath it. Braided silver flashed along the edge of the cantle and in the rigging. It looked very well made and was particularly striking against Janan’s whiteness, but Jack was most taken in by the embossing in the leather itself.  
  
The design was remarkably intricate, reminiscent on the side flaps of unfurled wings and of flared plumage everywhere else. From what he had seen of classical engravings on tiles in museums and what he knew of Chase, Jack would’ve bet anything it stood in for a phoenix, the regal bird representative of flame and ascension.  
  
Jack gave whistle of his own, low and impressed. “That’s gorgeous,” he noted. “Some of the ‘material wealth’ you’ve obtained?”  
  
Chase looked back at him, hand laid casually at Janan’s withers. For whatever reason, he seemed to be sizing up the sincerity of Jack’s question.  
  
“Actually,” Chase said slowly, “the saddle is a result of my apprenticeships. I made every part of it myself.”  
  
The disclosure made Jack smile and shake his head. “I don’t know why I bother to be surprised anymore,” he admitted. “You’ve gotta be the most talented bastard in the world.”  
  
Chase’s lips parted, but he took an uncharacteristic moment with the sassy rejoinder Jack completely expected. “My parents were married, but thank you.” Chase spared a considering glance at his horse and then, haltingly he asked, “Would you…care to see some of my material wealth?”  
  
Jack felt himself brighten. “Your souvenirs? I’d love to.” He came in a little closer. “What have you got?”  
  
Chase made no mention of the undoubtedly unfamiliar word Jack had used. Instead, he touched Janan’s magnificent saddle and it disappeared— _It’s magic, Jack, don’t think about it too hard_ —and then gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder that was apparently a signal to wander off and do whatever.  
  
Jack watched her meander a ways, but his attention was drawn instantly back when a massive chunk of gemstone was held out to him, large enough that it barely fit in one of Chase’s big hands.  
  
Jack held it in both of his to be safe. “Oh my _god,_ ” he blurted. The stone was raw and a little rough to the touch, but no less beautiful as he angled it in the light and watched it cycle through varying shades of indigo. “What is it?”  
  
“I’m not sure,” Chase said easily. “I found it in the remnants of a wildfire at the foothills of a mountain I’d decided to climb. The colors were pleasing to me.”  
  
“What mountain?”  
  
“I don’t know that it was named. I didn’t interact much with the locals to find out.”  
  
“Where was it, then?” Jack asked. “Maybe I could tell you.”  
  
“I came across it on the African continent. It had three peaks—it was the middle one I climbed.”  
  
Jack almost dropped the rock. “Kilimanjaro. You…you climbed Mount Kilimanjaro?”  
  
Chase, of course, seemed not to know what a _huge deal_ that was. “I’d heard no one had ever done it before,” he said. “Obviously, I chose to be the first.”  
  
“ _Chase._ ” If Jack’s voice came out a little strangled, he didn’t think anyone could blame him. “You climbed the highest peak of one of the tallest mountains _in the world._ On a whim.”  
  
Chase’s tone was casual, but there was mischief in the turn of his lips. “I had nothing pressing to do that day.”  
  
Jack barked out a helpless laugh, handing the giant gem back to Chase. “ _God._ You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”  
  
With a roguish smirk, Chase proudly declared, “Never.”  
  
Jack watched as Chase made to put the stone away somewhere in his cloak. A pocket, maybe?  
  
 _That thing’s way too big and heavy to fit in a pocket._  
  
He ignored the thought and instead asked, “What else have you got?”  
  
In one smooth, utterly seamless movement, Chase apparently stowed the rock and retrieved another item, which he delivered into Jack’s hands with a flourish of his wrist.  
  
“How does this strike you?” he wondered.  
  
The book Jack now held was undeniably a tome, thick and bound in a cover of ornate silver. Tilting it revealed gold edging along its pages and he curiously cracked it open to a random place, only to gasp as the page literally gleamed up at him.  
  
An illuminated manuscript—text intensively decorative in everything from the flamboyant lettering to the elaborate illustrations to the flashy gold leafing that adorned every page. He recognized it because he had one back at home…or, his _parents_ had one, anyway.  
  
Theirs was nothing like this one. Though it was kept in a sealed glass case at a precise temperature and humidity to preserve it, its pages were yellowed, ink faded, and colors dulled from age. It certainly couldn’t compare to Chase’s, crisp letters and vibrant paints that _popped_ against the bleached white paper.  
  
Jack couldn’t resist touching it, ever so gingerly. He was startled by how soft it felt beneath his fingertip, smooth in a way that reminded him of the paper he used to draw up blueprints.  
  
“Vellum,” Chase filled in for him, guessing the direction of his thoughts with ease. “Calfskin.”  
  
Jack cautiously retracted his hand. “Uh. You didn’t make this yourself too, did you?” he asked, thinking of the poor calves whose last moments would’ve been running for their life from a big scary dragon man.  
  
“No,” Chase said, sounding amused. “It was commissioned, but I thank you for the assumption. I understand it was the result of a _very_ painstaking artistic process. Three other attempts were discarded for smudges in the gold foiling.”  
  
From what Jack had heard of his mother boasting about it to houseguests while he’d hid in his room, he understood that the gold foil was one of the very _last_ details to be added to an illuminated manuscript.  
  
He looked down at the _thick_ book in his hands, seeing the _complex_ illustrations on the page he was looking at and extrapolated for the rest of it. “Damn,” he winced.  
  
“The perks of wealth and power,” Chase said proudly. “There’s very little outside my reach.”  
  
Jack thought of his own, extremely privileged upbringing. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”  
  
Chase took the book back— _seriously, where could that even fit? Does he have a bag under that cloak?_ —and added, “Of course, my greatest treasures are the practical ones. Would you care to see one of those?”  
  
Something Chase Young considered ‘practical’? Jack would bet anything he was about to see something metal and pointy.  
  
When he agreed, he was proven absolutely right as Chase was suddenly brandishing an impressive broadsword of sharp, well-crafted iron, not quite as pristine an artifact that the manuscript but—  
  
Wait.  
  
“Okay, where the _hell_ did that come from?!”  
  
Jack hadn’t meant to blurt that out so belligerently, but now that it was out there it gave him the needed momentum to push when Chase mistakenly began to explain, “I obtained it when—”  
  
“No, no, I mean…where _physically_?” He looked Chase up and down again, inspecting instead of admiring. “I was suspending disbelief for the rock and the book, because _maybe,_ but the sword, just…no _way._ ”  
  
That thing was nigh on three feet long and there was no scabbard at the man’s hip _or_ strapped to his back.  
  
“Ah,” Chase realized with an air of amusement. “In that case, you’re correct. I keep next to nothing on my person, most certainly not my valuables.”  
  
Jack waited a beat, and then sighed when nothing else was forthcoming. “You have a real knack for unhelpful half-answers, you know that?” he groused.  
  
Chase’s smile suddenly turned enigmatic. “I’m quite sure I could say the same of you.”  
  
His tone had just enough of an edge to it to give Jack pause. _…What?_  
  
Thankfully, whatever had hardened the warlord’s voice wasn’t important enough to hang on to. Chase sounded entirely casual again when he took pity on Jack’s confusion and explained, “I utilize magic for storage. It’s a fairly common technique among sorcerers.”  
  
Magic. He _knew_ it. “How does that work, exactly?”  
  
“Quite simply. A small portion of my qi is diverted towards maintaining an astral space.”  
  
“A pocket dimension,” Jack clarified, mostly for himself.  
  
Yet another term that Chase probably didn’t know and Jack belatedly wondered if he should be trying to curb his modern speech patterns a little more actively. Then, of course, Chase proved that completely unnecessary by considering the phrase briefly and concluding, “Essentially, yes.”  
  
“And you’re using your energy to maintain it all the time?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Jack frowned. “Isn’t that kind of…wasteful?” he wondered. “What if you need that energy for something later?”  
  
“You overestimate how much is required for the spell. Or,” Chase said, eyes flicking towards Jack, “you _under_ estimate my abilities.”  
  
If Jack had seen himself at that moment, he might’ve (reluctantly) described his expression as one of near-comical shock. “Whuh—no, that’s not, _no,_ I didn’t mean to—”  
  
Clearly Chase would’ve agreed with that assessment, because he cut off Jack’s panicked sputtering with a laugh.  
  
“Relax, Jack,” he chuckled, “I’m teasing you.”  
  
“…oh.” Jack was still getting used to that. A Chase that teased instead of mocked. Trying to put out of his mind how fervently he liked the difference, he asked, “So, the, uh. Astral whatever. It’s not hard to maintain?”  
  
“No more difficult than breathing,” Chase told him. “Once you understand the technique, it’s practically automatic. It is typically among the first spells a sorcerer learns, because of its practicality but also its simplicity. I believe even you with your limited qi could master it with practice, though of course you would need some external source of magic to draw on.”  
  
And wasn’t _that_ an intriguing prospect, one that made his metaphorical left brain _flare_ to life with questions. “Wait,” he said, “so magic is mostly a conceptual thing? It’s not just…something you’re born having or not having?”  
  
“Accident of birth does play a role, but no, it is not so rigid as that. _Magic_ is conceptual,” Chase explained, “but qi is what determines the relationship.”  
  
Too often in Jack’s day to day life of Crazy Mystical Shit, he saw things that he just could not explain with any kind of conventional science. To protect his sanity, he tended to shove all related questions to the very back of his mind. If he didn’t, he could very well end up thinking in circles for hours: without a source of outside information, he’d never reach any satisfactory answers, anyway.  
  
But Chase, at least _this_ Chase, was willing to _explain._  
  
Damn right Jack was going to ask while he had the chance. “What do you mean?”  
  
The warlord paused only momentarily to consider his words, idly stabbing his sword into the earth. “I told you,” he began slowly, “long ago, about your own qi. That you may not produce magic, but you can use it.”  
  
“Yeah, I remember.” Considering that Chase’s ‘long ago’ was Jack’s ‘the day before yesterday,’ he remembered it quite well, actually.  
  
“That is one of the ways it sometimes happens.”  
  
“One of several ways, I’m guessing,” hazarded Jack, which was confirmed with a nod. “Is it like that with a lot of people? We can use magic just fine so long as it comes from somewhere else?”  
  
“Yours is a…relatively common manifestation,” Chase decided. “It is not the most common. The majority of people in this world are magically ‘dead,’ so to speak. Their qi cannot produce or influence the force that you and I know as magic.”  
  
“Oh.” Hearing it broken down into those two dimensions made it infinitely more clear. “ _Oh._ So then there’s those people who can’t do either, and then there’s us and we can both manipulate it—but the difference between us is, your qi can _create_ it.”  
  
“Exactly so,” Chase grinned, almost proudly and Jack was so inordinately pleased that he had to ignore the feeling entirely lest he titter like a schoolgirl. “Mine is the rarest sort of qi. Very few are born with the ability to generate and harness magicks, but those that have it are inevitably drawn to some sort of craft which expresses it.”  
  
“Huh. You’re saying that if I’d been born with qi like yours, I’d have ended up dabbling in black magic?” Jack wondered, trying to picture it for himself.  
  
But Chase said, “Not necessarily. Magic, yes, but black or white is entirely personal inclination. Magic itself is neither good nor evil.”  
  
Chase undoubtedly saw the dubious expression on Jack’s face, for he added, “Superstition has always viewed the unexplainable with suspicion and all power has the capacity to corrupt, but it is not unequivocally evil. You’ll remember that Dashi had _immense_ magical ability and he was as saintly as he ever was on the day I killed him. The Xiaolin temple _requires_ its monks to be magic adepts, should they ever wish to attain the rank of dragon. Sorcery alone is not a path to evil.”  
  
“It was for you,” Jack noted.  
  
“Yes,” Chase conceded. “But you know better than anyone how many other factors were at work _there._ ”  
  
Jack opened his mouth to refute that, but his mind stopped him. It seemed crazy but it was…probably true. Chase had actually confided in him that time, before he’d chosen the path he was meant to. Granted, he’d been Chenglei at the time and that maybe had something to do with it, but even then, he hadn’t really spoken to anyone about his doubts.  
  
Only Jack.  
  
That was…entirely too weird to even begin processing, really. Jack decided to ignore that too.  
  
“Fair enough,” he shrugged. “Things being the way they are, though, you, uh… You think maybe you could teach me a trick or two someday?”  
  
Jack could admit (if just to himself) that it was mostly a diversionary tactic, something to avoid a potentially emotion-related topic.  
  
He didn’t _actually_ expect Chase to say, “I could, yes. It may take some time to infuse an object with my magic for you to use as your source— I’m not as skilled in altruistic spells as Dashi was—but I’m certainly capable. Would you want that?”  
  
Jack’s mouth may have hung open for a second, but he responded pretty quickly. “Yeah! I, yes, definitely! You… You’d really teach me?”  
  
“If you’re willing to learn,” Chase responded simply. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to know, for future reference?”  
  
 _God, everything. Anything._  
  
But it was probably best to start a little smaller than that.  
  
“That Hammer Space trick seems like it’d come in handy,” he decided lightly.  
  
And finally, there was a futuristic term that had Chase stumped. “Hammer Space?” he echoed, head angled just so in bewilderment.  
  
Jack laughed despite himself. “Sorry,” he said, “that’s kind of a…it’s not a relevant thing yet. I don’t think it will be for…” he paused, doing a quick bit of mental math to approximate a figure for the advent of cartoons, “more than a millennium. Hammer Space would be the pocket dimension thing you were showing me.”  
  
Chase raised an eyebrow, whether at the time distance or the explanation in general, Jack couldn’t tell. “I see. I can certainly attempt to teach you that.” Abruptly, Chase’s expression went shrewd and he added, “On one condition.”  
  
Jack was instantly wary. “What’s that?”  
  
“I have a question. I would like you to answer it.”  
  
Jack grimaced. “You _know_ I can’t answer—”  
  
“—anything timeline-altering about the future,” Chase drolly finished for him. “You’ve said so plenty by now. My question is unrelated to the timeline.”  
  
Jack’s heart rate picked up a bit. If it wasn’t about the timeline, that might be even worse. It was probably a _personal_ question.  
  
“Uhhhh, okay,” he said before realizing that sounded too much like agreement. “I’m gonna reserve the right not to answer, but you can ask it, I guess.”  
  
“Do you speak Ænglisc?”  
  
 _That_ drew Jack up short.  
  
“Uh,” he said, only to realize that wasn’t really an adequate response and add, “no, I don’t.”  
  
Ænglisc. That was…Old English? An old _variant_ of a language Jack was fluent in, sure, but not a language he spoke.  
  
He frowned at Chase, whose expression seemed caught between disgruntled and, bizarrely enough, disappointed. “Why?”  
  
For a moment, a sharp exhale was his only answer. Then, “When you reminded me I was meant for more, you spoke a language I’d never heard before and used it as proof of my ignorance.”  
  
Jack tried not to wince, remembering that ploy all too well. “Yeah… What does that have to do w—”  
  
“You ask me to be your teacher,” Chase cut in sharply. “I cannot teach you anything if you think me ignorant.”  
  
Jack _did_ wince there. “Chase,” he started, only to falter at the expectant stare the man had fixed on him.  
  
Oh. This was one of those things that was Important. More Important than it looked on the surface.  
  
He ducked his head just a bit, his hand coming up to the back of his neck as he fumbled to fit words to sentiments in his head.  
  
That was always the hardest part, the ‘not sounding like an idiot.’  
  
“Chase,” he began again, more deliberate. “When I said…all that stuff, it was _true._ It’s been a long time since then, you said. You’ve done a lot. You’re…different,” he said and meant _better._ “I can see that. I don’t think anything like that now and where you’re headed, I’m not gonna think anything like that ever again. I promise.”  
  
Chase’s expression didn’t change. “Even though I have no plan for the future?” he demanded.  
  
“Plans are overrated. You obviously found your ambition again. A guy like you?” Jack snorted. “That’s more than enough to take you anywhere you want to go.”  
  
Chase’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. Jack didn’t understand it— it had never been like this in his future— but it seemed like he just kept surprising Chase.  
  
“You truly believe that,” he said, like he didn’t, which was impossible, or like he’d thought _Jack_ hadn’t until that very moment, which was weird.  
  
“Of course,” Jack assured him, utterly sincere. “If it helps any, your guess was literally as close as you could possibly get during this time period. What made you think Ænglisc?” he wondered, curious. “Did you remember vowel sounds or, or some kind of grammatical structure thing?”  
  
Chase closed his eyes briefly and smiled. “Nothing of the sort, actually. I remembered your face.”  
  
Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “My face? What _about_ my face?”  
  
“Your features have always been…unusual,” Chase pointed out, not indelicately. “I recognized them in the people that spoke Ænglisc.”  
  
Jack had been following along because right, yeah, he did look pretty unusual, but the second half of that had him totally lost. Genetic mish-mosh and weirdness like his was unique. Surely, Chase hadn’t met a bunch of Anglo-Saxons that looked like _him._  
  
He said as much to Chase, who shook his head and stepped in closer.  
  
“They didn’t match your coloring, no,” Chase allowed, “but they do look very much like you.”  
  
Jack opened his mouth to ask for clarification.  
  
And that was when Chase’s hands settled on his face.  
  
Jack stilled, voice caught somewhere in his throat as Chase looked down at him from painfully apparent inches apart.  
  
Chase seemed not to notice that he’d frozen Jack as effectively as headlights freeze a deer. “Most especially,” he murmured, “in the set of your eyes.”  
  
Chase’s own eyes seemed half-lidded from this angle and Jack was so horribly distracted by the glimmer of gold from beneath his lashes that he had no idea what Chase was talking about until a finger traced below one of his wide eyes.  
  
 _Not albino,_ he realized suddenly. _**Caucasian.**_  
  
It was a funny time for him to realize it, with Chase gazing down at him with his fingers on his face, but Jack would’ve been the first European Chase had ever seen. It hadn’t even occurred to him at the time that Chase would find the differences noteworthy, much less that he’d paid so much attention to them as to be able to pick them out now.  
  
And that was exactly what he was doing. Fingers splayed and dragging lightly over lower-set cheekbones and curling beneath a rounder jaw, thumb outlining the edge of a more narrow nose.  
  
Chase’s hands were cool on his face, a welcome counterpoint to the Grecian sun, and Jack wondered what to make of the fact that the other man’s movements were so slow and gentle.  
  
Was Chase inspecting an oddity? Carefully and methodically cataloguing differences? Or…  
  
Jack swallowed reflexively, eyes focusing on Chase’s face so close to his own. He didn’t know _what_ that expression was, but it was far from detached.  
  
Did Chase look at him and see something exotic? Something that warranted his attention? Something he wanted to…to take and own, like one of his souvenirs?  
  
The thought was dangerously fascinating and Jack needed to squash it down quick. Chase was so _close_ and touching him without even the barrier of gloves in the way…  
  
Jack was more than sick of jerking Chase around this way, but his self-control was fast reaching its limits.  
  
A thumb brushed against the corner of his wider mouth and Jack wondered what Chase would do if he caught it between his lips.  
  
Jack moved on instinct, staggering back a step and breaking the connection between them. Panic and self-hatred mingled freely and he almost couldn’t look to see Chase’s reaction to doing this _again._ Hurt and anger and blank coldness had all been progressively more awful in the past and Jack couldn’t imagine what worse thing could be next.  
  
But when he did look…  
  
Jack didn’t know.  
  
Chase wasn’t…anything that Jack could’ve expected he’d be. He looked… _stunned,_ mouth open like he had been about to say something and had completely lost the thought. He breathed deeply, nostrils flared, and his cat-like pupils were rounder than Jack had ever seen them.  
  
Jack didn’t know what that meant, felt distinctly like he was on uncertain ground and the feeling only got worse as Chase just kept _staring._  
  
At least if Chase were angry, he’d know what to _do._  
  
Flustered by his own thoughts and Chase’s eyes burning into him, Jack coughed and far too loudly said, “Well, I, uh, you’re on the right track, that’s for sure. Those people are pretty much my ancestors and Ænglisc is an ancestor of the language I used, but I mean, really, don’t worry about it, it’s not gonna be relevant to you for awhile. My, my country of origin doesn’t even _exist_ yet, so really, you’re fine, it’s fine. So, you were showing me a sword?”  
  
As far as subtle topic-changes went, it was pathetic, with all the finesse of a tornado in a china shop, and Chase never should have let him get away with it.  
  
But he did.  
  
A smile slowly came across Chase’s face, disturbingly knowing, but he made no comment on Jack’s obvious diversion.  
  
“Yes,” he said, sounding so pleased that it could’ve been a hum. “I was.”  
  
He took a step back, grass crunching beneath his boots, and deftly pulled the sword in question from the earth, swinging it with an artful flourish of his wrist that made Jack shiver anew.  
  
From the edge of fang Jack saw in Chase’s smile, he’d caught that too. Lovely.  
  
“I won this,” he declared cheerfully, “from a soldier of Wessex. His skills with this blade were legendary and when I saw them for myself, I _had_ to challenge him.”  
  
“Gonna guess he lost,” Jack hazarded, glad to be so firmly onto a safe topic.  
  
“Not as badly as you might suspect,” Chase admitted. “He really was skilled. Not skilled _enough,_ perhaps, but he died with honor and asked that I take his sword as my prize.”  
  
Jack read between the lines. “He impressed you.”  
  
“He did,” and a faint note of wistfulness entered his tone. “I almost wish I hadn’t killed him. He fought very well, I think you would’ve found it impressive, too.”  
  
Jack would later blame his frazzled state for the thoughtlessness of his next comment. “Too bad you couldn’t have kept _him_ as a keepsake instead of the sword.”  
  
Both men stilled and the words hung in the air.  Jack sheepishly wondered how much that counted as ‘knowledge from the future,’ even as Chase brightened with inspiration.  
  
“I could,” he said, clearly already working out details in his mind. “I’ve seen spells which could accomplish that. I could perform them easily. I could collect warriors from all over the world, if I wanted.”  
  
Jack debated for a second on what to say, still unsure about what he had just revealed. He decided to go with devil’s advocate until he made up his mind. “Why would you want to?”  
  
It seemed like _Chase_ had already made up his mind on this one, though. “Those ‘generals’ you spoke of,” he said. “‘People I trust implicitly.’ I think even I could manage to trust someone who was bound to my will and could never betray me, and it could give me soldiers, servants; whatever I could want.”  
  
Chase was obviously too set on the idea to be dissuaded and maybe, Jack thought, he wasn’t supposed to be. Maybe now was when Chase was _supposed_ to start collecting his entourage of warriors-turned-wildcats.  
  
And it probably didn’t really count as giving something away. Jack hadn’t _told_ Chase he was going to do it, he’d just made a comment that gave Chase an idea. It was still _Chase’s_ idea, so it wasn’t _really_ interference.  
  
Or at least, that was what Jack was choosing to believe.  
  
“If you’re gonna get minions, you’re gonna have to figure out where to put them,” he pointed out. “They might fit in that pocket dimension of yours, but that’s probably not the best place for them to be most useful to you.”  
  
“Of course,” Chase waved off the concern. “I would need to establish a stationary stronghold somewhere, that goes without saying. I think I already have a location in mind.”  
  
So did Jack. “Oh yeah?”  
  
“I’ve heard legends,” he said, “a desolate place of dark magic and nothingness. If it’s where it’s said to be—if it’s real, it would be ripe for the taming.” He looked (probably deservedly) smug. “If anyone can take it, it’s me.”  
  
His smirk was contagious. “So,” said Jack, “taming a No Man’s Land, forging a kingdom in it, and gathering yourself an army of the best of the best. Is that the kind of challenge you’ve been looking for?”  
  
Chase’s eyes were bright with determination. “More than,” he assured, disappearing the sword to wherever he’d disappeared everything else. “I think the next few years are going to be…fun.”  
  
“I think you probably have a skewed definition of fun,” Jack quipped, “but best of luck anyway.”  
  
Chase eyed him briefly. “Something tells me I won’t need luck, but thank you.”  
  
That ‘almost fond’ look was back in Chase’s eyes again and Jack glanced away, clearing his throat. “Next time, you’ll show me around your fortress, right?”  
  
If anything, that only made the look fonder. “Naturally. You’ll be my guest of honor.” A hint of…something else entered his gaze. “The next time I see you, I’ll be ready for you.”  
  
“That…sounds ominous.”  
  
“It isn’t,” Chase said, apparently unconcerned. “Do you think a volcano would be too much?”  
  
And just like that, Jack was distracted by Chase’s planning, relieved that everything was continuing to play out as it should.   
  
He never did realize that the ‘something else’ in Chase’s eyes had been predatory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA HAAAA, I LIVE! XD
> 
> Seriously, there's not really anything I can say in my own defense on how long it took me to update here, but to sum up: my real life got kind of busy for the past year or so and I haven't had a lot of time or inspiration to write until kind of recently. ^^;
> 
> As a thank you to all of you who put up with this crazy hiatus, I'm even doing a double update, so expect the next chapter within hours of this one! :P
> 
> As always, of course, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! <3
> 
> (And for anyone who was wondering, the rock Chase found was [tanzanite](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/67/ff/1d/67ff1dd6281e3c6162fd85d8aa404516.jpg)!)


	10. Seduction and Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack gives in.

When Jack looked down he saw his boots planted firmly on level stone, fog swirling around them. To either side of him, a row of conflagrations flickered in perpetual twilight, drawing his gaze forward and _up._ Then, he was locking eyes with the demonic face and gaping maw that was carved out of the mountainside it emerged from.  
  
The feeling of nostalgia that hit him square in the chest was almost strong enough to make him physically stagger.  
  
It had been a _long_ time since Jack had visited Chase at his home.  
  
As always, the sight of the dragonlord’s lair from the outside inspired in him equal parts awe and the creeps—which, frankly, was probably the point.  
  
_Nothing to be scared of this time, though,_ Jack told himself. _I’m not here to mooch or beg for help or anything. And he **did** say I’d be the guest of honor if I came to visit, back in Greece._  
  
Even so, he couldn’t help but have a little caution in his step as he moved forward to where the door would hopefully appear. The day Jack _could_ casually stroll towards a giant set of fangs, inanimate or no, was a hell of a long way off.  
  
So, he strolled warily towards the giant set of fangs instead, maybe possibly tensing a little as he came up to the wall of stone and waited to see how it would open. But really, that was just instinct considering how many times the thing had opened _on_ him.  
  
Not this time, though.  
  
With startled relief, Jack watched as the door opened for him quickly and easily, and didn’t make so much as a single move towards him.  
  
There was no reason to tempt fate, though, so he hurried on in before it could change its mind.  
  
…and almost immediately skittered to a stop with an embarrassing squeak at the sight of _something_ in the darkness of the hallway, looking up at him with reflective eyes.  
  
The tiger sitting in his path certainly seemed unimpressed. By the time Jack realized that was what it was, his face was heating and he was scowling down at the cat like it had wronged him.  
  
“Shut up,” he muttered at its pompous-looking face. “You startled me.”  
  
The tiger seemed neither concerned nor repentant, casting another haughty look at him before getting to its feet and turning to prowl down the hall.  
  
Jack watched it go a few steps, not understanding until it stopped and looked back at him with annoyance and ‘ _well?_ ’ somehow written on its feline brow.  
  
_Oh, wow. I get an escort?_  
  
Never mind that said escort didn’t seem all too happy about its duty. The gesture was its master’s, and to Jack the meaning was loud and clear.  
  
Chase wanted him here, and he wanted him accompanied instead of in custody.  
  
For a man like Chase, that was a _big_ damn deal.  
  
Feeling appropriately flattered, Jack followed the cat without any further delay, letting it lead him to the grand foyer.  
  
Very soon, his eyes were adjusting to new light reflecting off gleaming marble and his breath caught in his chest at the beauty before him.  
  
Not the palatial elegance of the architecture or the vibrant greenery or the soothing sound of running water. That, Jack was plenty used to by now, of course.  
  
But he didn’t think he’d ever get used to _Chase._  
  
Descending gracefully from the central dais, Chase was gleaming too—with _armor._ Clad in black silk and shining bronze, his dragon-eye sash tied around his waist and his dark hair spilling freely down his back, he was beyond glorious and Jack stood transfixed as he came to meet him.  
  
“Jack,” he greeted, pleasure in his eyes and an appropriately wicked tilt to his grin. “Welcome to the Land of Nowhere.”  
  
If his heartbeat maybe stuttered a bit there, Jack was telling absolutely no one.  
  
Instead he returned the grin and did his best to act unaffected. “Happy to be here,” he said brightly. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”  
  
The look on Chase’s face told him he hadn’t quite gotten away with nonchalance. Jack still counted it a passable success, as Chase seemed disinclined to draw attention to it.  
  
Still, a not-so-small part of him was disappointed by that. A few ‘days’ ago, Chase would’ve pounced on a lapse like that…but Jack had no right to be disappointed.  
  
_He_ had shut all that down, motives notwithstanding. He wasn’t _allowed_ to be disappointed that Chase had done the sensible thing he’d _wanted_ him to do and moved on from his…crush? Lust? Whatever it was, in the ensuing _centuries._  
  
“How long did all this take you?” was all Jack said out loud, though, glancing around at the shining extravagance of Chase’s stronghold.  
  
“A very long time,” Chase admitted. “There were the native species to clear away, water sources to divert, materials to bring in… I did end up having to recruit that labor supply we spoke about.”  
  
Jack followed Chase’s gaze to the handful of big cats idly loitering in the room. He was sure that there were dozens more all throughout the palace where he couldn’t see them, the strongest and most skilled warriors the world had thusfar seen ready to leap to their master’s defense at a single command.  
  
“And since you’re not _just_ using them for labor, I’m betting you were pretty choosy rounding them all up in the first place.”  
  
Chase’s unapologetic smile was answer enough.  
  
“I’m still not hearing a number,” Jack noticed. “Is it really that bad, that you’re trying to spare me the shock or something?”  
  
Chase’s expression turned wry. “I’ve no doubt you can handle quite a bit more shock than that. It has been roughly four-hundred and twenty-nine years since the last time I saw you.”  
  
Well. Shit.  
  
“That _is_ longer than it’s ever been, isn’t it,” he muttered, not quite having the presence to make it into a question.  
  
“Considerably,” Chase agreed. “A promising sign, don’t you think?”  
  
Jack refocused. “Huh?”  
  
“That the instances when you appear are coming further and further apart,” he clarified.  
  
Jack still wasn’t following. He let his confused expression say so for him.  
  
Thankfully, Chase didn’t seem to mind explaining further. “Look around you,” he prompted, and Jack did so again.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“You’ve been here before. You _know_ this place. I can see that in your eyes.”  
  
“Of course I know it,” Jack said slowly. “I used to come here all the time—”  
  
“In the future.”  
  
The interruption gave him pause.  
  
Chase pushed forward with the point that Jack thought he was starting to get. “It is now as it’s meant to be. Would you agree that I am as well?”  
  
Jack looked him over again too, though he didn’t really need to. Chase had been…well, _Chase_ for awhile now. The armor had been the only missing piece, and now…  
  
Jack shook his head. “You’re—everything’s perfect. As far as I can tell.”  
  
Chase seemed pleased by his answer, so either he was on the right track or he’d noticed the near-slip. Possibly both.  
  
“If that’s so, you should be relieved. You’ve done what you set out to do.”  
  
Jack startled. “Set out to—no, I’ve been trying _not_ to change anything!”  
  
“Of course,” and Chase didn’t seem concerned otherwise. “You once told me it caused you stress, worrying about all the ways you could ‘screw up’ your future before it could happen. It would seem that now you can relax.”  
  
“That’s…not entirely true,” Jack said hesitantly. “I mean, it’s good that… It’s definitely good, but my future is, uh…”  
  
Mental math gave him a ballpark of just under seven hundred years. He knew better than to tell Chase the exact number, just in case the dragonlord did something crazy, like _remember_ it.  
  
“It’s _awhile_ from now,” he said instead. “There’s still plenty of time for me to mess things up, and if you knew my reputation, you’d probably agree.”  
  
Chase just snorted, apparently amused. “Not knowing your reputation, I can’t speak to that, but knowing your intelligence, answer me this: what _can_ you do wrong?”  
  
Jack opened his mouth to reply. Then closed it.  
  
“My home is complete,” Chase went on smoothly. “I’ve gathered an army. I am myself, as you know me. That’s all true, is it not?”  
  
“Well… yeah.”  
  
“The important things. And now they’re all set in stone.” He smirked, lightly tapping his foot against the marble floor. “Some of them more literally than others. There’s nothing you can do to change those things.”  
  
Admittedly true. Jack couldn’t undo Chase’s accomplishments, and at this point there was nothing anybody on the planet could do to 180 his personality.  
  
_Not without a certain Yo-Yo, anyway._  
  
The thought of even that much less to worry about was undeniably a relief.  
  
So much so that Jack didn’t notice Chase stepping forward and coming to stand at his left, not until a gloved hand settled on his shoulder.  
  
Chase’s eyes were warm when Jack looked up at him. “The real danger’s passed now,” he told him. “There’s nothing you can do now that will have any major consequences. Don’t you think so?”  
  
It took him a second to answer. Jack didn’t know how _not_ to get distracted when Chase locked eyes with him like that, not from so close. “I guess,” he managed and was instantly rewarded with a hint of fang that kicked up some butterflies in his stomach.  
  
Fucking _butterflies._ Chase never failed to make him feel like a blushing teenager.  
  
Jack tamped it down, reminding himself that nothing could happen, and nothing _would_ happen because Chase wasn’t into him anymore, not _that_ way.  
  
It still didn’t stop Chase from being completely gorgeous and unfairly charming as he murmured, “So then why don’t you relax and let me show you around?”  
  
Jack forced a smile. “The grand tour?”  
  
Chase cocked his head. “Of course,” he said, tone verging on playful. “I told you I would. You know I’m a man of my word.”  
  
“Of course,” Jack echoed. “Yeah, sure, I’d love to see the rest of the place.”  
  
“Excellent.” Chase’s hand slid down from his shoulder, fingertips settling low on his back and pressing lightly. “Come, then.”  
  
Jack ruthlessly suppressed a shiver. _Keep touching me and talking like **that,** I just might._  
  
Chase started walking and Jack went with him.  
  
“So,” Chase began, distracting him from the hand settled at the base of his spine, “you’ve been here before. I see no point in a tour of what you know already. Why don’t you tell me what it is you’ve seen of my home?”  
  
“Uh…not much,” Jack guessed. “Your front porch, for sure. Very impressive, by the way.”  
  
Chase grinned. “You approve, I take it?”  
  
“Assuming you were going for intimidating beyond all reason? You hit the nail on the head.”  
  
“Thank you,” Chase replied, tone wry. “What else?”  
  
“Well…the foyer we just walked out of, obviously,” he said with a gesture behind them. “Your dining room…the pool room, I guess.” Jack frowned as Chase made a turn in the hallway that could be nothing but purposeful. He shot the warlord a look. “You already know exactly where you’re taking me,” he accused.  
  
“Of course,” Chase agreed easily. “It _is_ good to know that you haven’t already seen it, though.”  
  
“Seen what?”  
  
But Chase didn’t answer, so Jack let his question lie and held his tongue.  
  
Until they got where they were going, that is. Then, he was speechless for a whole ‘nother reason.  
  
Jack remembered looking up pictures once, for who knows what reason, of Roman architecture. The baths had been striking in terms of sheer scale, but the still water and yellowing stone had taken away from what the effect may have been in their hey-day, when people actually hung out there.  
  
Chase’s bath was just as empty but it easily left all those photographs and ruins in the dust. For one, it was at least three times as big, carved from the clean white marble Chase favored. Jack definitely hadn’t been imagining the Roman flavorings in the structure of the room either, the columns and arches too distinctive to deny now that he was really looking, but it was anything but stagnant _or_ simple.  
  
Several reservoirs of varying shapes and sizes dotted the floor, probably temperature-controlled if the steam rising from a few of them was any indication, all filled with crystal clear water that sparkled in the supernatural brilliance of the room. The sound of running water, from the truly impressive artificial river winding through all the pools, was gentle and soothing and from _somewhere,_ the scent of peaches floated through the air.  
  
In short, Chase’s bathroom was nothing less than an exercise in decadence.  
  
“You _really_ don’t do anything halfway, do you?” was all Jack could say.  
  
Chase took it in good humor, laughing and bringing his hand back up to Jack shoulder. “You know quite well that I don’t, Jack,” he chuckled. “What do you think?”  
  
Jack snorted. “It’s incredible,” he said, lamely in his own opinion. “A lot better than what I’ve got at home, for sure.”  
  
Chase’s smile was pleased and his nod regal, but a seed of suspicion entered Jack’s mind anyway; one that made him look up at Chase and add, “Kind of a weird place for a tour, though.”  
  
“Perhaps,” Chase conceded, unconcerned, “but I thought you might best appreciate a visit here before anything else.”  
  
Jack paused, parsing the doublespeak. “Are you saying I stink?”  
  
“Why? Would it make you self-conscious if I was?”  
  
Jack blinked, startled at the clear note of teasing in his voice, but before he could even start to sputter something in response, Chase shook his head.  
  
“No need to get bashful, Jack,” he murmured, palm dragging down Jack’s arm and making him straighten instinctively. “I wasn’t insinuating anything about your scent.”  
  
Jack wasn’t sure what to make of _that_ tone either, but he was hardly ever at the top of his game where Chase and proximity and a low-pitched voice were concerned. He did his best to ignore it. “Then what are you saying?”  
  
“Offering,” Chase corrected. “I’m offering you the first proper bath you’ve had in some time.”  
  
The phrase drew Jack up short with a sudden rush of want. A _proper bath_ was something he hadn’t had since before Guan’s bullshit had started all this. It hadn’t even been that good, a quick ten minute shower before heading out that he really hadn’t appreciated enough at the time.  
  
Compared to quick washcloth wipe-downs with cold river water whenever he could _find_ a river, heated pools and the promise of actual soap really did sound like heaven.  
  
He turned to Chase and in complete and total seriousness said, “You have no idea how tempting that is.”  
  
“I think I have some idea,” Chase replied. “You and I are quite alike in this. I can imagine how frustrating it would be to have no way to tend to your appearance.”  
  
“ _Very,_ ” Jack agreed with a huff. Then, with a bit of hesitance, “You don’t mind.”  
  
That made Chase roll his eyes. “Would I have offered if I minded?” he asked. “You are a guest in my home this time, Jack, and I intend to treat you as such.”  
  
“Oh… Well, okay.”  
  
“Besides,” he added, catching Jack’s eye, “what sort of host would I be if I didn’t offer you a little temptation?”  
  
Jack swallowed.  
  
_There are so many ways I could take **that** wrong._  
  
Not wanting to embarrass himself he took a step forward, out of Chase’s loose grip, and turned to face him.  
  
“So,” he said, lightly clearing his throat, “should I just…pick a pool or…?”  
  
Chase, of course, was unaffected by Jack’s consistent awkwardness. He just continued to look at him with vague amusement. “If you intend to bathe, Mosi can assist you.”  
  
Jack no sooner opened his mouth to ask than he noticed the lion sitting back on its haunches just behind Chase, watching him with bored blue eyes.  
  
Jack shut his mouth. “You know,” he said conversationally, “I’m about five minutes away from asking you to bell these guys.”  
  
“You’re criticizing the greatest warriors the world has to offer for their stealth?” Chase wondered. “I rather think they’d take that for a compliment.”  
  
“Freaking me out? Sure, they’re great at that.” But Jack was peeling off his gloves anyway, knowing there was no real point in arguing.  
  
Handing them off caused a moment of confusion though, because of the unusual hands that took them. Human, of course, he’d expected that—but not ones so _pale_ as to rival the whiteness of his own.  
  
Mosi’s human form, as it turned out, had retained the blue eyes and champagne-yellow mane of his cat form, but his fur had in no way conveyed the stark lack of pigment in the African man’s skin.  
  
_He’s albino,_ came the shocked thought from Jack’s brain, unable to come up with anything else.  
  
Neither of the men before him seemed to notice, Mosi silently inspecting the synthetic leather of his gloves and Chase glancing over at him.  
  
“Mosi,” Chase informed him, “is actually in charge of reconnaissance, when I require it. Naturally, he is the _stealthiest_ of the warriors at my disposal.”  
  
“And now you’ve got him on what, butler duty?”  
  
Chase’s shoulders moved in what could’ve been a shrug. “All of my minions are trained to be versatile,” he said. “Mosi just happened to be the closest when I called.” Chase paused, raising an eyebrow at him. “You don’t intend to bathe fully clothed, do you?”  
  
“Oh! Uh, no, not…no.” Jack started fiddling with the clasp of his helipack and then the zipper of his coat. Getting them off, he spent a moment or two untangling them from each other, straightening sleeves, and as an afterthought, grabbing his travel-sized mouthwash from its pocket. He tried to think if there was anything else he might need for his hygiene in there, but was distracted by the feeling of being watched.  
  
When he looked up, Chase was staring at him again. Exactly like back in Thessaly.  
  
_What the hell?_ Jack didn’t get what there was to look at, certainly not _that_ intensely. In the past, he had always put weird stares down to the spectacle that was his body: red hair, red eyes, death-white skin, what a weird guy, look at that.  
  
But it couldn’t be that now, with Chase. Not with a man like Mosi in Chase’s service.  
  
Chase had _seen_ albino skin before, up close and personal if he was hand-training all his minions. It couldn’t be _that._ But the alternative couldn’t be right either, the one that made Jack’s heart spike with sudden adrenaline.  
  
Because if Chase wasn’t looking at his skin, he might just be looking at _him._  
  
_Does he still…?_  
  
“Chase—”  
  
“Would you like your clothes laundered?” Chase asked, which was probably just as well since Jack had no idea what he had been about to say.  
  
“Uh,” he said, quickly rerouting his train of thought. “I guess so. If it wouldn’t mess anything up.”  
  
“Not at all,” and Jack watched dumbly as Mosi took his coat and helipack from him. “You’ll have your things back before you must leave.”  
  
“Thanks,” he managed and then floundered in the stiff silence that followed.  
  
There was nothing else he could take off, not in polite company and still qualify as dressed, but Chase didn’t seem to be going anywhere.  
  
Jack laughed a little, as casually as he could. “You’re not planning on watching me strip, are you?”  
  
Instantly, he cursed himself. _Oh my **god,** did I just say that?!_  
  
“If you’d like me to.”  
  
Jack’s jaw nearly dropped. _Oh my god, did **he** just say that?!_  
  
Abruptly dizzy with the feeling of being _way_ out of his depth, Jack was mute and frozen as Chase laughed quietly, touching a finger to his cheek.  
  
“You,” he declared, “blush _so_ very vibrantly when your feathers are ruffled.”  
  
“I…I don’t—”  
  
“You don’t have to be shy about your virtue,” Chase said, retracting his hand. “I’ll take my leave of you, for now. We’ll resume your tour when you’ve finished, if that meets with your approval?”  
  
It took an embarrassingly long time to realize it was a question. “Yeah! Yes, that sounds…that sounds great.”  
  
Chase’s answering smile was charming and his shallow bow perfectly courteous, but it wasn’t until he turned and broke eye-contact that Jack felt like he could breathe properly.  
  
_… **Well.**_  
  
Lightly-accented Chinese snapped him back to the present. “Would you follow me?”  
  
“Uh, right, of course.”  
  
Mosi led him further into the room, eventually coming to stop beside an apparently random pool and gesturing to it. “This is probably the warmest water you can stand,” he said.  
  
Jack eyed some of the others, drawing conclusions. “Chase likes ‘em pretty hot, huh?” he guessed.  
  
“Considerably. These are all heated naturally with the volcano’s core. The hottest would scald you instantly.”  
  
Jack whistled, but let the topic drop there. Mosi was certainly more polite than Chase’s tiger had been, but Jack knew well enough by now how to tell when somebody wasn’t particularly interested in talking to him.  
  
It made it a lot easier for him to unselfconsciously pull off his shirt and kneel to start unbuckling his boots, the man-lion walking off somewhere else to do who-knows-what.  
  
By the time he returned, Jack was down to his boxers and sitting at the edge of the bath.  
  
“My master indicated that you may be unfamiliar with the uses of these,” Mosi said, settling a few items on the polished stone floor beside him.  
  
He, and by extension Chase, was right. The next minute or so consisted of the man briefly naming the purpose of the products he’d brought over: what he could clean his hair with, what to wash his body with, something like lotion that would keep his skin moist afterward, and so on.  
  
There was one awkward moment where Jack had to cut off an explanation of the proper use of a chamberpot for the sake of his dignity, but for the most part it was educational and very useful.  
  
After that, Mosi took his clothing, boxers included— Jack had flushed a little and started to protest his modesty but Mosi had only given him an arch look that reminded him how little of a fuck he gave—and nodded in bland acquiescence to Jack’s insistence that all the pockets be emptied before any washing. Then with just a quick instruction of what to do when he was finished, Mosi was gone.  
  
Jack took a moment to breathe, finally alone with his thoughts. And the smell of peaches.  
  
Why peaches?  
  
Knowing Chase, who planned every detail of everything in his life, there was probably a reason; some kind of association that he found pleasant or some symbolism that amused him. Chase’s choices were hardly ever impulsive.  
  
_“If you’d like me to.”_  
  
The words drifted back to him, rising up through his thoughts like the steam from the bath.  
  
Far more substantial, though. It was more like a brand than steam, seared in and unforgettable.  
  
Chase had said that. Chase had _said_ that.  
  
Jack slid into the deliciously hot water, his body relaxing even as his mind whirred to life.  
  
Much as Jack listened to loud music at unreasonable decibels, he wasn’t hard of hearing so there was no question at all about _what_ he’d heard. Chase had said those words and _had_ to have meant them.  
  
But why?  
  
The obvious answer, of course, was that it was a joke. Chase didn’t want to see him naked, he’d wanted to tease him and it had been extremely effective. Chase had gotten the exact reaction teasing would be going for: he had thrown Jack off his footing, left him speechless and blushing brightly enough that Chase had chuckled over it.  
  
A little joke at his expense. Nothing really hurtful, but clearly nothing serious, either.  
  
Or.  
  
Jack went through the familiar motions of personal hygiene on autopilot as he mentally skirted around the other possibility, hesitant to acknowledge it head-on.  
  
He did a pretty good job of avoiding it, actually, and it wasn’t until he was washing suds and grease out of his hair that it intruded on him anyway.  
  
_Maybe he meant it._  
  
Jack sighed, sinking underneath the water and cursing the fact that he wasn’t as stupid as people thought he was. It would’ve been nice to stay oblivious on this one, but no such luck.  
  
Surfacing after an extended, breath-holding moment of denial, he sighed again.  
  
If _that_ were true, Chase’s…whatever for him might not be as done as he’d thought it was and even as the thought sent a thrill through his chest, it also tightened his throat.  
  
Chase wasn’t _supposed_ to want that, not in Jack’s future and especially not _pre-dating it._ It was getting to be a very tired old tune and Jack was beyond sick of humming it but it was a big damn deal, and a big damn problem if this particular issue wasn’t going away.  
  
But. _But._  
  
It wasn’t the end of the world, not the one Jack knew and not yet. Wanting wasn’t the same as doing, he reminded himself, latching gratefully onto the realization. The knot of tension in his stomach started to loosen as suddenly as it had appeared because Chase hadn’t _done_ a damn thing.  
  
In fact, he’d derailed the possibility of doing anything when he’d casually changed the subject and _left._ That made it seem a hell of a lot like Chase was on his side, and why wouldn’t he be?  
  
Jack had kept a lot hidden from Chase about the future—by necessity—but he’d let enough of the good stuff slip. The Chase of Jack’s present was powerful, successful, the grand and respectable Heylin prince of darkness and of course Chase would want that. He wouldn’t jeopardize all _that_ carelessly, on some stupid whim.  
  
_Besides, idiot,_ he told himself, _it’s still **way** more likely that he was just fucking with you._  
  
Self-deprecation, familiar and easy, soothed him in some bizarre way and it was with a renewed calm that he finished his bath. He was sure to consciously savor it this time, appreciating all too well that it could be awhile before he had another one as private and luxurious as this.  
  
Eventually he couldn’t draw it out any longer and regretfully pulled himself out of the water, only to find himself staring at a pile of clean cloth— _towels_ that had not been there when he got in.  
  
“Fucking magic,” he muttered, but he was smiling as he dried himself off.  
  
When he felt dry enough, he set aside the used towels and reached for the jar of what Mosi had said was lotion.  
  
It was thick on his fingers and when he dipped into it, the scent of it hit him in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Sandalwood, spice, and something that smacked of plum. It was missing the underscore of ozone that Jack was used to, but it was too close for him not to recognize it instantly.  
  
Chase.  
  
Jack hesitated, staring at the dollop of cream on his fingers. Would it be weird to use it? If it were just any old moisturizer, he wouldn’t think twice, but the same kind Chase used? The kind he favored even a thousand or so years in the future? It seemed…somehow personal.  
  
Presumptuous, too. Jack could pretty easily picture the aggressive Chase of his adolescence baring his fangs at him for assuming he had any right to such personal effects. The distant Chase of his adulthood, the one he’d left behind in his present would probably just sneer.  
  
This Chase, though…he was downright courteous. He seemed to want to be a good host and he’d offered the stuff in the first place. He wouldn’t do that if it were weird for Jack to use it…right?  
  
_You’re being dumb again, genius,_ he chided himself.  
  
He put on the lotion. He understood immediately why Chase would prefer it to any other, substantial without being too heavy and lacking any slippery residue.  
  
He wondered idly about his odds of getting some for his own use as he reached over the neat pile of black cloth to replace the lid of the jar and then paused.  
  
Black cloth. The towels had been _white._  
  
And they were also apparently gone now, replaced with a folded stack of charcoal silk clothing.  
  
“Alright, well, now it’s starting to get freaky.”  
  
No one responded, which was par for the course, so Jack just rolled his eyes and picked it up.  
  
It was high quality, but that was to be expected from Chase. The outfit reminded him more than a little of what the warlord wore beneath his armor, likely a spare set fished out of the closet for Jack to wear while his own were being laundered.  
  
Jack appreciated them nonetheless, as well as the pair of sandals resting beneath the silk, and he put it all on with the gratitude unique to a man who had been wearing and sleeping in the same outfit for over a week.  
  
As comfortable as he was in his old jeans and well-worn shirt and coat, the silk felt like heaven against his newly washed, sensitive skin. It fit him surprisingly well for Chase’s cast-offs, especially since Chase was taller and broader in the chest and shoulders, yet the pants were just the right length and the top wasn’t loose on him at all.  
  
Jack probably should’ve thought more of that, but didn’t, instead idly inspecting the gold thread embroidering the sleeves and Chase’s emblem stitched over the left side of his breast.  
  
Clean, dry, and redressed, he didn’t have any more reason to linger in the bath and so, as Mosi had instructed, he made his way over to the door at the far wall and went through.  
  
Chase was waiting for him there, in a room that looked like it belonged to a sheik’s courtesan, reclining casually on a plush couch.  
  
“Hello again, Jack,” he said. “Did you enjoy your bath?”  
  
Jack was unduly distracted by the line of Chase’s body and the inviting tilt of his smile. “Uh. Yeah, I did. I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”  
  
Chase’s smile broadened. “Not long.” He stood, making his way back over to Jack’s side. “I took the time to decide where to show you next, if you’ve no objection.”  
  
Already Jack was hyperaware of Chase again in no time at all, his proximity close enough to transmit body heat and the sound of his inhale impossibly loud just beside his ear.  
  
“You’re running the show,” he conceded. “I’ll go wherever you want to take me.”  
  
And wasn’t _that_ uncomfortably close to the truth? But all Chase said was, “Excellent,” and brought him around a column to show him a truly intimidating spiral staircase.  
  
Jack stared at it, neck craning nearly ninety degrees. “This isn’t one of those hideously impractical sets of stairs that look really cool aesthetically but take so much time and effort to climb that you don’t really care about what’s at the top anymore, is it?”  
  
“Not at all,” Chase promised. “It should only take you an hour or so to climb these.”  
  
Jack’s head whipped around to stare at Chase in disbelief and it wasn’t until the man’s façade broke with a bark of laughter that he relaxed.  
  
“It _would_ take you that long,” Chase insisted, “were you not with me.”  
  
Jack caught on quick. “They’re charmed, aren’t they?”  
  
“Naturally. You see them as far taller than they actually are, and if you tried to climb them on your own you would be trapped in a looped section for roughly an hour.”  
  
Jack whistled. “Impressively devious,” he said. “Got any other traps like that around here?”  
  
“Hundreds,” Chase replied, a wicked glint in his eye, but he said no more than that, which Jack figured was fair enough.  
  
They ascended the spiral together, Jack _firmly_ at Chase’s side, and they did reach the top in a startling short amount of time. Once again, Jack caught himself gaping at a huge and visually stunning room.  
  
“You know,” he said slowly, “I’m starting to think you might be overcompensating for how totally underwhelming that old ‘house’ of yours was.”  
  
Chase seemed unconcerned by the accusation. “Perhaps a little. Mostly, I just designed it to my personal tastes and spared no expense. I like to think that means that any discrepancies between the past and the present show just how much I’ve outgrown such things.”  
  
And _how_ Chase had outgrown his past. A dead, dry, and brittle field of millet couldn’t even begin to compare to the garden Jack was looking at now, a vast room of lush greens, white marble, and in between, splashes of every color imaginable. It was practically an insult to even call it just a garden when it looked more like a fabled Wonder of the World.  
  
Jack decided not to comment on Chase’s statement, knowing anything he had to say would fall short of the mark.  
  
“So this is your garden, huh?” he said, glancing around at the foliage and flowers hanging from planters and sprouting up from soil beds on the floor. “I can’t say I pegged you as the type.”  
  
“To enjoy gardening or to enjoy having a garden?”  
  
Jack made a face at a bizarre mental image of Chase doing all of this _himself_. “Both, I guess.”  
  
“You aren’t wrong.” Chase led them forward onto an ornate path into the garden, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Jack when he met his eye. “I only oversaw its creation. I preferred not to dirty my hands when I didn’t have to.”  
  
“Oh, god, I understand _completely._ ”  
  
Chase glanced at him curiously, clearly sensing the story there. Still selectively editing himself for the sake of the future, though, Jack couldn’t quite explain the circumstances.  
  
He weighed his words for a second before adding, “Well, I guess I just have a hard time getting plants to cooperate with me.” And to not usurp his evil plans and turn him into a cactus, but c’est la vie. There had been other greenery-related failures in his past. “Honestly, I probably shouldn’t touch anything while we’re here. It might die just to spite me.”  
  
Chase laughed at that. “Not too skilled with your hands, are you?”  
  
“The opposite!” Jack exclaimed. “I’m _amazing_ with my hands!”  
  
That seemed to catch Chase’s interest. “Oh?”  
  
“Yes! My hands are _great_!” He scoffed. “Of course they are, I’m an _artist._ They’re just not so great with things that…live. And require water and attention, I guess.”  
  
“Then what do you work with?”  
  
Jack made a questioning noise.  
  
“Your craft,” Chase clarified. “You don’t work with plants. What then? Paints and oils?”  
  
“Metal,” Jack answered automatically, before even noticing the strangeness of the question.  
  
“Sculpture?”  
  
“Uh. Sort of.” Jack backtracked a little, amending, “I guess I was being kind of dramatic, though. I’m not really an artist, at least not like what you’re thinking. I doubt anybody’d call what I do ‘art’ except me.”  
  
“It’s technical,” Chase said.  
  
An easy question. “Yes.” In multiple uses of the word.  
  
“But does it require anything besides knowledge?”  
  
Jack frowned, not following. “Well…yeah.”  
  
“Could you do what you do without your insight, your passion, your creativity?”  
  
“Probably not,” he admitted, internally adding, _at least not if I want to stay about a billion steps ahead of what the other uninspired hacks are coming up with._  
  
“Then you didn’t misspeak at all,” Chase concluded. “You’re an artist.”  
  
Validating. Jack smiled and hoped he wasn’t about to start blushing.  
  
Chase glanced at him sidelong. “I don’t suppose you could be more specific about your craft than that.”  
  
His tone said he was already resigned to getting a non-answer in return and Jack gave him an apologetic grimace. “There’s still not really an analogue these days for what I do. The vocabulary doesn’t exist yet.” Not for describing an engineer/inventor/mechanic who was living off his parents’ Old Money until he could properly add ‘/entrepreneur,’ ‘/CEO,’ and probably a bunch of other stuff to his title.  
  
Chase nodded, having expected as much. “But it will,” he said firmly. “And when it does, you will tell me about it.”  
  
“Uh…sure. Yeah.” Jack was pretty sure Chase would take that back within two minutes of actually listening to him talk—most people did—but the interest was noted. Noted and _flattering,_ and he had to hope that he was keeping his grin just the right side of way-too-ecstatic.  
  
He cleared his throat and tried to say something reasonably intelligent. “So do you come here often?”  
  
_Oh my **god.**_  
  
Jack had never been so relieved that he was stuck in the past and shit like that could slide under the radar, because Chase took it in stride.  
  
“Not particularly often, but on occasion,” he said. “As you can imagine, it’s well-suited to meditation, and in the daytime there are many ideal spots for basking.”  
  
“Basking?”  
  
“A pastime enjoyed by most lizards, of which dragons are apparently no exception.” Chase caught him by the shoulder again, getting his attention before pointing upwards at the ceiling.  
  
It was probably just as impressive as the garden itself, a mosaic of glass and prisms in mesmerizing patterns that could let in the sun and the moon in equally fascinating ways.  
  
“Not truly glass or anything as fragile as that, of course,” Chase told him. “I could never allow such a tactical weak spot in my defenses, but it’s spelled to let the light through.”  
  
“And you just…sunbathe in your garden paradise sometimes?”  
  
“Yes. I’d suggest you try it sometime yourself,” the man teased, “but I can’t imagine it would go well.”  
  
Jack snorted, remembering legendary sunburns of days past. “No, probably not.”  
  
“It’s just as well. Your skin looks far better in moonlight anyway.”  
  
That made Jack falter, wondering if he _were_ hard of hearing after all, because Chase gave no indication that he even realized he’d said something like that, only gently squeezed his shoulder and released it.  
  
But then he looked directly at him, with a stare that could only be described as penetrating and asked, “See anything you like?”  
  
Jack gaped at him. There was no better, more dignified word for his reaction, but he hardly thought he could be blamed. “Uhhhhhh. What?”  
  
He did _not_ squeak that last part. He _didn’t._  
  
Chase tilted his head. “The garden?” a gentle query, like he was concerned for Jack. “You can appreciate the flowers without being able to grow them yourself. Surely there’s _something_ here that catches your eye?”  
  
……..oh. _Oh._  
  
_Can I really keep calling myself a genius at this rate? For fuck’s **sake.**_ Of course that was what Chase meant!  
  
Now to pretend he’d known that all along.  
  
“Yeah,” he said hurriedly, “yeah, definitely, I mean it’s all very…” He made a vague gesture around them. “There’s a lot of options, I was just…considering.”  
  
It was weak as far as covers went, but Chase nodded, waiting patiently for his composure and his answer.  
  
(Was that a smirk? Was he still reading too much into things?)  
  
Jack’s eyes lighted on a nearby bush of flowers and he reached out to it, grasping a stem without breaking it. “These are nice,” he declared with probably far more conviction than the question required.  
  
“Indeed they are,” Chase agreed, coming around to Jack’s other side to view it more closely. Jack breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Though I wouldn’t have pegged _you_ as the type to like purple.”  
  
“I don’t _dis_ like it,” Jack hedged. He really wasn’t that big a fan of purple, especially pastel shades like the bloom between his fingers, but luckily he hadn’t picked a totally unredeemable plant. “I think I like the petals. They’re thin and straight and…I don’t know, it looks…neat. Symmetrical.”  
  
“So it does,” and as usual, though he’d had trouble putting his thoughts into words, Chase saw right to the heart of what he’d been trying to say. “The precision and delicacy of nature is fascinating. I’m quite partial to these for the same reason.”  
  
Jack followed Chase’s hand, seeing it reach upward to a planter on top of a decorative column. Several long stems hung over the side, each adorned with tiny bell-shaped blossoms. The dark green tip of Chase’s finger contrasted starkly with the curling white petal it lightly tapped.  
  
“Lovely, aren’t they?”  
  
The upside down flowers reminded Jack of something a fairy princess in a storybook might wear as a skirt. Or maybe something Kimiko had worn once, it was hard to differentiate. Still, they were tiny and well-formed and very pretty, so Jack agreed.  
  
“They’re also extremely poisonous, if you can believe that as well.”  
  
…of course they were.  
  
“I put considerable effort into cultivating these,” Chase told him seriously. “They wouldn’t cooperate at first, but I think my efforts were worth it. I have no doubt they’ll serve me well in years to come, and they make a wonderful addition here besides.”  
  
Jack shrugged. “Sometimes you’ve gotta put the work in to get the reward.”  
  
Chase looked at him again, shrewdly. “I couldn’t agree more, Jack,” he said at length.  
  
That…sounded distinctly like he was missing something. He hesitated, on the verge of asking, and then thought better of it.  
  
Deflect, deflect, deflect.  
  
“So are, uh…these ones your favorites, then?” he asked.  
  
“Favorites? No,” Chase decided slowly, “though I do favor them. I prefer something a bit more robust.”  
  
“Oh. You mean like, those carnations?” The bush of them was the one with the largest blooms in here, or at least the largest Jack could see from this section of the garden—and almost definitely one of the only ones he could actually put a name to.  
  
Granny was particularly fond of carnations, always having a vase of them out in the dining room when Jack went to visit her. Purple ones, usually, because she said those were for capriciousness and Jack had never quite been able to wrap his head around that; all the significance and meanings that flowers were supposed to have.  
  
Flowers were just flowers, right?  
  
Chase looked over at the bush in question, noting the ruffles of both light and dark red. “Ah, the dianthus? I do like those quite a bit, as well. They’re a memento of sorts, actually.”  
  
“Really? What of?”  
  
“I found those,” Chase gestured, “in Greece several centuries ago. Mere days after you left.”  
  
Jack blinked. That was worthy of a memento?  
  
Chase continued. “I wondered if you’d like them as much as I do. Do you?”  
  
What to say to that? “Yeah, they’re nice.”  
  
“But not my favorites, ultimately. I keep those at the center. Come,” he invited, “I’ll show you.”  
  
This time, Chase didn’t wait for him and instead of walking at his side, Jack ended up trailing behind him as they traveled deeper into the garden.  
  
Chase’s pace was brisk, not exactly inviting further conversation so Jack let his eyes wander instead, admiring the leaves and petals of all colors.  
  
Except…the more Jack looked, the less that seemed to be true.  
  
The dragonlord had not been negligent in his collection, every shade in the spectrum present somewhere in the garden with not a color left out. In the distance, around the edges of the large room, Jack could still see vibrant yellows, cool blues, royal purples, and soft pinks scattered amidst the greens.  
  
But not here. Not from the marble paths winding _through_ the garden. From here, only a few select colors were visible, narrowing down the diversity considerably. The further they went, the closer to the apparent heart of the garden, the more apparent the color pattern became.  
  
Orange. Red. White.  
  
Jack looked at Chase, but the man had his eyes forward and seemed not to notice his gaze. He also didn’t look back when Jack chased a crazy, suspicious whim and reached out to brush against a thatch of daisies they passed.  
  
It wasn’t crazy. The petals blended precisely with the color of his fingers.  
  
Jack’s silence went from casual to tense as he made the obvious connections, flirting with the implications thereof.  
  
_Flirting. Poor choice of words._  
  
Because this was becoming something a little beyond what could be passed off as teasing. A stray comment here and there was one thing, but something like this…it bordered on a _gesture,_ and a grand one at that.  
  
And that was if conscious thought had been put into the decision. There was also the chance that it hadn’t been planned, that Chase had designed the garden and just _felt_ that Jack’s colors belonged in his inner sanctum.  
  
Objectively, it was a much worse scenario because it made it a grand _emotional_ gesture, which…  
  
Jack swallowed around excess saliva, hope and anxiety warring in his gut.  
  
He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to _do._ And even though it felt like it was getting slimmer every minute, there was still the possibility that he was blowing things out of proportion and to even _mention_ it in that case would be a hideously embarrassing faux pas that he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to come back from.  
  
(Assuming your feelings really were stupid and hopeless was bad enough, he didn’t want to _hear_ it, not from this Chase, the one who liked him and called him _friend._ )  
  
And yet, Jack found his mouth opening anyway. “Chase—”  
  
He was saved from whatever stupid thing he’d been about to say as the man in question stopped and angled to face him again. “This is the center of the garden,” he said. “It’s where I meditate, when the mood to do so in this particular room strikes.”  
  
The center was a modest ring free of greenery, only the marble floor and a small rock formation fountain that cascaded over itself with a nearly inaudible sound. Jack could picture Chase meditating above it clearly, and the pleasant fantasy was a brief but welcome relief to thinking in nervous circles.  
  
But then there were the flowers that surrounded the fountain.  
  
Jack watched, feeling frozen in place as Chase knelt beside them and announced, “ _These_ are my favorites.”  
  
It was like a lily, almost. The petals were broader and there were more of them, but they had the same shape and curled outwards like they’d just burst open. It was almost the same shade of white, too; would be, if not for the splash of scarlet dead center and along the edge of each and every petal, as though someone had carefully colored them in by hand.  
  
“I’m not sure what these are,” Chase said and Jack’s eyes shot back to him immediately, watching with a strange feeling as his gloved hands reached out to cup the nearest blossom in what looked like tenderness. “I obtained their bulbs through a long string of parties, so I don’t even know where they came from. But I do know that they’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”  
  
Chase got to his feet, seeming to consider something. “Well,” he corrected, “ _one_ of, anyway.”  
  
Jack felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, catching _that_ implication loud and clear and turned away, taking an instinctive half-step backward.  
  
It was an incredible series of coincidences which combined to result in what happened next.  
  
Jack was more than a little mentally off-balance, so he didn’t think to look where he was putting his foot. The foot in question was missing the high traction he was used to, wearing a sandal instead of a heavy duty boot. He certainly wasn’t expecting to step into a puddle of water, not as far from the gentle water fountain as he was.  
  
Luckily for him was the fourth coincidence: that Chase had already taken a step in his direction.  
  
No sooner had he slipped and fallen backwards, a strangled yelp not quite making it out of his throat, Chase was right there with him in a flash. Jack would later be hard-pressed to say whether or not he’d actually teleported, but it was an understandable lapse of observation because Chase was _close._  
  
Keeping him up by a single arm around his waist, the other hand tightly grasping his, Chase leaned over him haloed by prismatically filtered moonlight.  
  
With wide eyes Jack met Chase’s, his gaze so suddenly smoldering that he could almost feel rational thought pouring out of his brain, too dazed by the heat and solidity of the body he could feel through the thin silk he was wearing to even attempt to hold onto it. He just let Chase hold him up, thinking back to the first time they’d met.  
  
Chase had caught him then, too, but this was different. This was _intimate._  
  
It was like this, with their faces scant inches apart and eyes locked that Chase spoke, voice pitched so low and soft that it was practically a murmur.  
  
“You should be careful…”  
  
The full-body shiver was only to be expected, but it gave Jack the momentum he needed to break eye-contact. He realized he was clinging to Chase’s armored shoulder and hurriedly let go, coughing and clearing his throat as he tried to straighten up.  
  
Chase refused to let him do this alone and Jack tried and failed to ignore his hands as they settled him firmly upright and the way Chase’s thumb dragged lingeringly against his palm.  
  
If he had been starting to blush before, his cheeks were on fire now, and his heart beat a vicious staccato in his chest. He had no doubt Chase’s hearing could catch it easily and not five minutes ago, he’d have been concerned about that, making a fool out of himself in front of a politely disinterested Chase, but Jack was _sure_ that wasn’t the case. Not anymore.  
  
Because that had been on _purpose._  
  
Chase did plenty of stuff to him on accident, by sheer virtue of existence. Jack was used to it by now and though he consistently bemoaned it as unfair, he’d come to expect it—quickened pulses and sweaty palms and tied tongues whenever Chase just happened to be exceptionally beautiful or charming that day.  
  
What had just happened was no accident, couldn’t have been no matter how many ways Jack ran it in his head. It was straight out of a harlequin romance, too much and too obvious to be anything but deliberate and it gave Jack the answer to at least one of his questions.  
  
Chase hadn’t moved on. He was _interested._  
  
If only that didn’t raise _more_ questions, but it did because Jack had no idea what Chase was interested _in_ besides the obvious.  
  
From the…times before, attraction was a given, Jack had known about it and it had been fine because…because they’d _agreed._ Not verbally or anything, but that had been the _point,_ they weren’t going to talk about it, whatever the hell it was, and everything would be _fine._  
  
Except now, this, and Chase wasn’t talking about it, per se, but he was _doing_ things, coming on strong and being _romantic_ of all the fucking things, and Jack’s brain was approximately no help, uselessly shrieking ‘ _TIMELINE, TIMELINE, TIMELINE_ ’ at him on repeat.  
  
Jack didn’t think he’d ever been so tempted to potentially destroy the world before.  
  
“Are you alright, Jack?” Chase asked, curiously like he had no idea what he’d just done and what a crock of shit _that_ was. He _knew._ “You seem quiet.”  
  
Jack breathed through his nose. “Fine,” he said after a moment, shaking his head. “I’m fine, I just.” God, what to say? How to start _this_ conversation? “I’m…”  
  
“Hungry?”  
  
Jack looked up to find Chase grinning at him again, encouragingly.  
  
“That _is_ your usual complaint, isn’t it?”  
  
It was an easy way out. It probably played right into Chase’s plan, whatever it was, and it was totally cowardly besides.  
  
Knowing as much didn’t stop Jack from taking it.  
  
Jack huffed what he hoped sounded like a laugh. “I am, actually. Hungry. Don’t supposed you planned a dinner break for the grand tour?”  
  
“Planned? No,” and Jack was pretty sure that was a lie, “but I’ve fed you on less notice with fewer resources, haven’t I? I’m sure I can come up with something.”  
  
Jack smiled, weakly probably, but grateful and made the appropriate noises to that effect.  
  
If nothing else, dinner would give him time to think through his words if Chase really was bringing this up again.  
  
As long as Chase didn’t take him to some kind of patio under the stars to share a single plate of spaghetti, Jack figured he could manage that much without freaking out. 

Chase didn’t, in fact, try to pull a Disney-style seduction and Jack tried not to laugh hysterically upon realizing how little he’d ever expected to have to be grateful for _that._  
  
The dining room was as it had ever been in Jack’s experience, perhaps a little more brightly lit than normal but still only a long table laden with food that smelled delicious. The only real difference was how close to the head of the table Chase gestured him to sit.  
  
_Not unusual,_ he thought, obligingly taking his seat. _If you’re having dinner with somebody, you’d want them close enough to talk to._  
  
A perfectly legitimate reason. But not the only one, Jack couldn’t believe that anymore.  
  
Still, he didn’t ( _couldn’t, you selfish idiot_ ) protest and sat anyway, busying himself with the food and thoughts of how to handle the latest fallout of Guan’s bullshit spell.  
  
Naturally, it took Chase no time at all to draw him out of his thoughts and into conversation. An embarrassingly short while later, he found himself chatting easily about current events, almost as if he’d never been worried about anything at all.  
  
“It seems as if the entire world has devolved into a cesspool,” Chase was scoffing with disdain. “I confess I haven’t been out _in_ it much lately, but I can hardly be blamed for that. The stench is the same wherever you go—rot and disease and human waste. It’s _nauseating._ ”  
  
“Yeah, for someone with average senses. I bet it’s a hundred times worse for _you._ ”  
  
“At least,” Chase agreed ruefully. Glancing at Jack sidelong, he added, “I don’t suppose you can tell me if I’ll ever be able to leave my home again or if I’m forever destined to be a shut-in.”  
  
Jack considered it over a light sip of wine and didn’t see any harm. “No, this is pretty much the worst it gets, I think. There’s a plague going around and a major religion’s telling people that bathing is sinful, it’s pretty much a perfect storm of disgusting that doesn’t happen on nearly the same scale ever again.”  
  
Chase snorted. “I admit I was surprised at first to see how widely the contagion was spreading but when basic hygiene is scolded as witchcraft and debauchery, it’s really not much of a surprise at all. You’re aware that in the west, people are carelessly dumping chamberpots in the streets?”  
  
“And dumping diseased corpses in open mass graves,” Jack nodded. “Nothing about what’s happening could really be considered smart.”  
  
“Not much to be done for those who won’t entertain cleanliness as a solution,” Chase supposed with an idle wave of his cup. “I can’t help but notice, however, that this so called ‘Black Death’ never had a showing of this size in China.”  
  
“That’s not a nationalist bias I hear coming through, is it?” Jack teased lightly, only to pause half a moment later. “You’ve seen it before?”  
  
“Of course,” the warlord answered easily. “It was common in my day, though the outbreaks were never so widespread until recently.”  
  
“Huh. I didn’t know that.”  
  
“Didn’t you?” Chase sounded mildly surprised. “Being from the future, I half-expect you to know everything.”  
  
Jack laughed. “No, not everything. _A lot,_ sure,” he conceded, “but not everything. I didn’t know the plague started in China.”  
  
“It did. Actually, it was what killed my wife those many years ago.”  
  
And just like that, Jack’s mood soured.  
  
With all that had happened in between, and with Chase finally who he was supposed to be now, he had completely forgotten about that brief period when he wasn’t; when he had just picked a convenient woman and settled down and _married_ her.  
  
It was dumb. It was _beyond_ dumb and Jack knew that, but he was suddenly very aware of the possessive Chase had just used—‘ _my_ wife’—and he couldn’t get past it.  
  
Did Chase still think of her as his? Did she still mean something to him, even after Jack had pointed out that their whole marriage was a stupid, pointless fraud?  
  
And more importantly, why did _he_ care if she did? Was Jack actually _that petty_ to still be jealous of a centuries-dead woman just because she’d had Chase, a man Jack had been wondering how to turn down easy not an hour before this?  
  
_Well **that** one, I know the answer to: of course I’m that petty._  
  
It might be different if he actually wanted to turn Chase down, if it were anything but circumstantial obligation forcing his hand _again,_ but as it was…  
  
The very thought of Chase having such a long-lasting emotional connection to _her_ alongside what could be nothing more than an unusually persistent sexual attraction to _him_ was enough to make Jack see green.  
  
“Jack?”  
  
He jolted back to awareness to find Chase looking at him, with both question and vague concern in his eyes, and he realized he’d been quiet just a tad too long.  
  
A lapse in judgment to be sure, but an easy cover. All he had to do was wave it off as nothing, lost in thought, spacing out, no problem, what were we talking about again?  
  
He opened his mouth and asked, “Do you miss her?”  
  
_…Fuck._  
  
A disturbing amount of understanding dawned on Chase’s face, his features softening into a smile. “No. Not at all.”  
  
“You sure about that?” and that was _leagues_ too bitter from somebody who was supposed to be uninterested. Jack fervently willed himself to retroactively shut the hell up, but as usual spontaneous time travel refused to work in his favor.  
  
“Completely,” said Chase, and his smile had taken on a note of amusement. “You know better than anyone what a…unique period in my life that was.” He waited for Jack’s nod of acknowledgment before continuing. “I imagine I’ll always remember her because of that; how strange it was for me in retrospect, but I feel no attachment to her. Certainly no more than I feel for anyone else I’ve had a passing dalliance with.”  
  
It sounded a lot like reassurance. Distantly, Jack knew that if Chase had seen enough to know he wanted to be reassured, he was in trouble but the words were soothing that mean and nasty part of him that kept talking out of turn.  
  
It might be a necessary evil.  
  
“Shun-Heng was soft-spoken and pretty. Traits many look for in a woman, I suppose, and I liked her well enough to live with her.” The jealousy started creeping back in, only halted when Chase said, “But…she never understood me. Not even after a lifetime. Because of that, I can only hold her fondly in my thoughts to a point.”  
  
Well. That was…something, at least. Good to know.  
  
A large hand closed around his forearm, firmly enough that his instinctive startle didn’t dislodge it. Jack looked up and was just as steadily caught in Chase’s gaze—intent and poignant.  
  
“Shun-Heng,” he said, deliberate and sure, “was never what I really wanted.”  
  
Jack could’ve choked on his own heartbeat.  
  
That was more than ‘something.’ A _lot_ more than ‘something’ and Jack didn’t think the fluttering feeling Chase gave him had ever been stronger.  
  
It was also a ‘more than something’ that was going to take genius and a serious risk to finesse himself out of.  
  
“What _do_ you want?” Jack asked with all the naïveté he could muster, reluctantly tugging his arm back. “You mentioned dalliances. What kind of things do you usually look for?”  
  
It was a dangerous move, specifically asking about something so personal. It ran the risk of making him seem too eager and too interested.  
  
(Which he absolutely was, but since it was a Thing That Must Not Happen, the goal was to avoid that.)  
  
Unfortunately, it also happened to be the only viable way through this. It was impossible to pretend he didn’t care about Chase’s sex life at all, Jack knew that ship had sailed and he had to cut his losses on that one.  
  
It _was_ still possible to pretend he only cared about Chase’s sex life as a _friend,_ though. If he could be careful enough from here on out, asking casually and feigning obliviousness, there was a slim chance he could sell the lie that his interest was purely platonic and not at all personal.  
  
And if he did that right, it might cut off any more of Chase’s advances at the pass, too.  
  
_Still, I never thought I’d see the day when the ‘no homo, bro’ approach was my best option._  
  
Chase, for his part seemed to give the matter consideration, and the lack of a quick response in the form of bold declarations or witty flirtations heartened Jack.  
  
“Honestly, I hadn’t given the matter much thought,” Chase admitted. “Intelligence is a must, of course. I never could abide stupidity.”  
  
“Of course,” Jack agreed. He moderated his expression into an approximation of interest, polite and not too much.  
  
“Looking back, though, it’s often been a sense of humor that truly gets my attention,” the other man mused. “It combines very well with intelligence. I think my favorite partners have been the ones who could match my wit, or even beat me to a punch line on occasion.”  
  
“Sure,” Jack nodded, “you want someone on your level.” Hearing about ‘favorite partners’ was bringing the jealousy back again, but Chase wasn’t looking at him with such burning intensity anymore and that was the more important goal.  
  
His gamble in selecting this topic could pay off, after all.  
  
“On my level,” Chase echoed. “Well-phrased. I do want that. I have power and wealth. I deserve respect, but I hardly want someone who’s too simpering or afraid to be candid with me.”  
  
“You have servants for the unquestioning obedience.”  
  
“Exactly. If I’m to take a lover, I would choose someone with a backbone. Someone bold enough to question me when I need it. When I’m doing something foolish like, say…subsistence farming for a living when I ought to be commanding minions from the luxury of a palace.”  
  
“……uh. Yeah, I…guess.”  
  
“I’ve had _some_ of that with others,” Chase said airily, “but to me, it always felt as if it lacked substance. There was no _history_ there. Without that, anyone I spent time on was little more than a fleeting diversion to me.”  
  
Jack looked at Chase in suddenly wary silence, feeling caught and singled out.  
  
Chase wasn’t looking back at him though, only taking a deep, unconcerned pull from his glass of wine.  
  
It was… _slightly_ possible that Jack was being paranoid again and his ploy was working just as well as it had seemed to be a minute ago.  
  
Then, “I’d ask about _your_ preferences, but I think I already know what they are,” Chase declared, snaring Jack in a sly glance, “or else you wouldn’t be trying so hard to throw me off the scent.”  
  
Oh. Or, his ploy had never worked at all because Chase had known what he was trying to do from the start.  
  
_Damn._  
  
Jack couldn’t help but admire Chase’s clever tactician’s brain, even when it was being pit against him.  
  
He took a deep breath through his nose, staring down at the table. “Chase… Look, I—”  
  
Once again, Jack was almost grateful to have been interrupted when Chase said, “Jack. Before you say anything, I would like to finish your tour.”  
  
Jack made a face. “Wh… I…really? Now?”  
  
“Yes. Dinner is over and there is one more place I’d like you to see.”  
  
Understandably confused, Jack shook his head, trying to commit himself to biting the bullet. “I don’t… Chase, I think we really need to talk.”  
  
“We do,” Chase agreed coolly, easily, “and we will. But not here.”  
  
There were times when Jack thought himself the most adept Chase Young translator on the planet. And then there were times like this; looking at the expression on the other man’s face and seeing nothing but an indecipherable dragonlord staring back at him.  
  
He couldn’t even begin to guess at Chase’s state of mind just now, much less his intentions with this latest curveball.  
  
Before he could come up with a decent response, Chase stood from his place at the table and Jack found himself looking at an outstretched palm. “Will you come?”  
  
Jack hesitated. Come where? To an impossible seduction or an innocent, or at least straightforward conversation?  
  
If Chase was offended by his pause, he didn’t show it. His expression and his hand didn’t move at all. He only asked, “Do you trust me?”  
  
The question was different, but Jack knew the meaning was the same and the rephrasing all but settled his decision.  
  
Because god help him, but he _did._  
  
He took his hand and let Chase pull him from the table. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”  
  
A satisfied look was Chase’s only response before he turned away and walked out of the dining room, obviously expecting Jack to follow.  
  
Which he did.  
  
Jack wasn’t sure where to direct his thoughts just yet, whether it would be better to go into this with clear and prepared talking points or go off the cuff and improvise. Knowing exactly what to say and how to say it could make him seem disingenuous and Chase would surely seize on that right away and turn it against him.  
  
But on the other hand, his improvisational skills hadn’t exactly been doing him much good, lately.  
  
His brain seemed to make the decision for him, giving the impending Conversation a wide berth and turning instead to the hallways Chase was leading him through. If he couldn’t figure out what to say, maybe he could at least try to figure out where the warlord was taking him?  
  
Except no, that was a futile effort too.  
  
It felt like they hadn’t been walking long at all but the twists and turns Jack was suddenly remembering made it seem much more complicated in retrospect. No more than three directions at a time remained clear in his memory before slipping away like sand through a fissure and Jack was abruptly sure that it was the work of another of Chase’s trap charms.  
  
Wherever they were going, it was well-protected—Chase didn’t want it found easily, or even _remembered_ easily by someone who’d been there.  
  
_War room, maybe? An inner-sanctum?_ That would make sense.  
  
And it _was_ certainly an inner-sanctum, of sorts. Chase ushered him inside a room seemingly at random and shut the door and Jack froze at the sight of it.  
  
It was, without a doubt, a bedroom.  
  
Chase’s bedroom.  
  
_Really starting to doubt the odds of that straightforward conversation, about now._  
  
The thought galvanized Jack’s tongue back to functionality, barely. “Uh. Chase?”  
  
Chase’s first reply was nonverbal, fingers trailing over his shoulders and down his arm as the man walked around Jack and further into the room. Then in a tone that could only be described as sultry, “Relax, Jack. You’re _far_ too tense.”  
  
Jack’s good intentions were fading fast. All he seemed to be able to process was the fact that a beautiful man had brought him to his bedroom and was _definitely_ trying to seduce him.  
  
He felt his face heat and desperately tried to backpedal towards rational thought. “I…don’t. Shouldn’t. You. Um…”  
  
Startling him, Chase laughed, glancing at him over his shoulder. “You really don’t know what to do with this at _all,_ do you?”  
  
Jack flushed darker and frowned. “That. Well, I guess that kinda depends on what _this_ is, doesn’t it,” he said, vaguely indignant.  
  
Chase turned forward again but not before Jack saw the amused grin on his face. “Yes, of course, you wanted to talk first. That’s fine, the seduction will keep.”  
  
Jack seized onto the first piece of solid footing he could find. “So you _are_ trying to seduce me!”  
  
“Jack, have you realized I don’t need you here?”  
  
And it was gone again. Jack flinched back ever so slightly, confused and more hurt than he’d like to admit at the curt declaration. “What? What are you talking about?”  
  
For a split second just before Chase turned to face him again, Jack was worried he was about to see the cold and scornful dragonlord of his present.  
  
It was a relief when in spite of the harsh words, the Chase that looked at him was still the one he’d miraculously befriended; still _his_ Chase.  
  
It was enough of a relief, in fact, that he didn’t even remember to chastise himself for thinking of Chase as his.  
  
“I’ve alluded to it quite a bit but I think you’ve seen enough to know for yourself: I’m doing well for myself,” Chase said calmly. “I’m satisfied with my life as it is.”  
  
Jack completely blamed the evening’s emotional rollercoaster for the fact that he was not following at all. “Yeah. So?”  
  
“So why are you here?”  
  
The question stopped Jack cold and he realized, quite abruptly, what Chase was getting at.  
  
He’d been here, in this time, for _hours_ and hadn’t seen a single sign of something wrong.  
  
“There’s nothing for me to fix,” he concluded slowly. He hesitated and glanced up at Chase. “Is there?”  
  
But Chase shook his head. “There’s nothing,” he promised. “Yet, you’re here. Don’t you wonder why that is?”  
  
Yes. Yes, Jack _was_ wondering that now, and it was more than a little troubling because so far putting out fires had been his way of navigating his temporal predicament. Pop into a problem, fix the thing, move onto the next one: not always _easy,_ but Jack at least knew what to do.  
  
Why was he even here if there wasn’t a problem? And how was he supposed to keep moving if there was nothing for him to fix?  
  
“I…”  
  
Before Jack could get himself too worked up over it, Chase spoke again. “I can tell you exactly why.”  
  
“Why then?”  
  
“Because I needed you.”  
  
Jack frowned, but Chase wasn’t finished.  
  
“Not to solve something or to do damage control. Just _you._ ”  
  
Jack watched as Chase briefly turned away again, casually undoing his vambraces.  
  
“You see,” he said as he did so, “I’ve spent the last four hundred or so years preparing to test a theory. I knew it would require a lot of effort on my part. Certain milestone achievements, personal growth…and much as it galls me to admit it, desperation—the kind that can only be born from centuries of _waiting._ ”  
  
The vambraces dropped to the floor one after the other, though they never made contact. They disappeared halfway down in a crackle of Heylin magic instead, an easy, thoughtless gesture of power.  
  
“But I was very sure of myself. I knew my patience would get me exactly what I wanted in the end. So, I started planning something very important to me.”  
  
Chase began to peel off his gloves and Jack stood stupidly transfixed.  
  
“I went about my life. I achieved my full potential. I built myself an empire. And all the while I was waiting until the conditions would finally be right.”  
  
The gloves vanished, possibly to the same place Jack’s voice had gone because he didn’t think he could interrupt Chase now even if he wanted to.  
  
“Tonight,” Chase said, voice low, “they were. I knew it. I put everything I had planned into place and it was all flawless. There was only one thing I _needed_ to make sure tonight happened exactly as I wanted it to.”  
  
Chase sat on the edge of his extravagant pillowy bed, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. “You, Jack. I needed you, and here you are.”  
  
The implications were staggering. Chase was saying he had _manipulated the spell,_ or at least figured out how to predict when Jack would show up and Jack would definitely try to process all of that later when Chase wasn’t looking at him like…  
  
Well, like he really _did_ need him.  
  
“That’s crazy,” Jack blurted, wincing when Chase raised an eyebrow at him. “No, I…I mean, it’s… You’re saying you needed me to be here so you could, what? _Seduce me_?”  
  
Chase’s answering smile was fond, if just a little patronizing for the frazzled genius’s liking. “Not _only_ that,” he assured. “You wanted to talk; I want that, too. It’s long overdue, I’d say.”  
  
He was…probably right about that. “Yeah,” Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We’re doing this, then?”  
  
In lieu of a direct answer, Chase angled his head to the spot beside him. “Sit.”  
  
As always, Jack couldn’t help but do exactly what Chase told him to do, inhaling and exhaling deeply before sagging onto the mattress next to him—with a completely respectable space between them.  
  
“So,” he said wearily, “did you want to start or should I?”  
  
“I’m sure I can guess what you have to say.”  
  
Jack’s head whipped up and over to glare at Chase, expecting condescension, but the glower faded in confusion when he realized the words seemed completely genuine. “What do I have to say then?”  
  
“That you’re flattered by my interest, truly, but nothing can happen between us and you’re very sorry. Oh,” Chase added almost as an afterthought, “and if I’d like someone to blame for it, I might go take it out on Guan since it is, or will be his fault.”  
  
Jack stared at him. “…good guess.”  
  
“But you see, it wasn’t. A guess,” Chase clarified. “I know you, Jack. And I’m sure by this point you must think me a selfish, sex-driven brute to keep tempting you like this,” Jack blushed, “but I _am_ listening. I heard you the first time.”  
  
Jack huffed out a breath, staring at the floor. “Then why…?” He wasn’t sure how to finish the question, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. Chase would answer it.  
  
“Because your guidelines were specific, Jack,” he said. “And the wait is over.”  
  
“Guidelines?” Jack wrinkled his nose. “What guidelines?”  
  
When Jack looked, Chase was rolling his eyes. “It’s only been _days_ for you, Jack, you _can’t_ have forgotten.”  
  
“I, well,” Jack sputtered. “Just because I probably remember what I said doesn’t mean I have any clue which specific thing you’re talking about!”  
  
And then Chase’s hand settled on his knee and Jack almost gave himself whiplash with how quickly that one point of contact rendered him still and silent.  
  
Patiently, Chase met his gaze and reminded him. “You said, some time ago, that when the danger had passed, I could ask you a certain question again.”  
  
With that prompting, Jack’s own words popped into his head clear as a bell.  
  
_“After all this. When the…consequences and the danger of messing time up are all over. Then you can ask me that again.”_  
  
Jack was stunned, not least of all because he remembered _when_ he’d said it, too.  
  
“That was… Chase, that had to be like, _eight-hundred years_ ago. You…you were _Xiaolin_ when I said that to you!”  
  
In counterpoint, Chase was completely calm. “Did you think _I_ had forgotten?”  
  
“Yes!” Jack admitted. “Why would you remember that? After all this time…”  
  
“I remembered it because of the question I asked you,” Chase told him. “I’m considerably invested in hearing the answer and I remember everything I deem that important.”  
  
Jack had no answer for that.  
  
Chase looked at whatever it was Jack’s face was doing. “Are you really so surprised that I think you important?”  
  
“ _Yes._ ”  
  
“You shouldn’t be,” Chase said coolly, bluntly. “After you’ve been a constant companion to me my entire life? My _only_ constant since I became Heylin? Of course you’re important.”  
  
Jack’s breath caught, just a little, at the sheer ease of the declaration. Wide-eyed, he attempted to protest through the bubbly feeling in his chest. “I—”  
  
Of course, Chase read his intent perfectly and cut him off. “ _Don’t_ even try to argue it, Jack. It’s true. From the moment I drank the Lao Máng Lóng, I chose a life of uncertainty— nothing’s permanent, no one stays. No one _can_ because I am constant and mortals…aren’t.”  
  
There was no regret in the statement, just cold fact.  
  
“The people in my life that _don’t_ eventually grow old and die around me are subjugated to my will and cursed to an inhuman form unless I choose to allow them otherwise,” Chase continued, “hardly a basis for anything substantial.”  
  
Jack inhaled sharply when the hand on his knee squeezed gently.  
  
“You’re different,” Chase told him, something earnest in his tone. “You’ve come in and out of my life since I was a boy. Sometimes years, decades, or even centuries apart, but you’ve been there. Always unchanged, whenever I see you. You don’t age like everyone else does.”  
  
That threw Jack. “But…I do,” he argued. “I definitely _do_ age. I’m just living on an accelerated timeline of your life, I’m as mortal as anybody else.”  
  
“I realize that,” Chase said, unconcerned. “But in effect, you are still like me. You’re constant, when everything else in my life is transitory.” He reached over, grasping Jack’s hand in his own and the skin on skin was unexpected enough that Jack didn’t even think to pretend to want to pull away from it. “Do you really think I wouldn’t value you? Wouldn’t want you?”  
  
And there it was, finally, the truth that Jack had hoped for and dreaded and tried to avoid acknowledging in equal, desperate measure.  
  
“You want me.” And then, because it sounded just as crazy out loud as it did in his head, “You _want_ me.”  
  
Chase, to Jack’s embarrassment, made a show of looking at the room they were in and at his own hands, one gripping Jack’s knee and the other clasped around his fingers in a gesture that was unquestionably _intimate._  
  
“I would think,” he said dryly, “that would be obvious by now.”  
  
Jack tried to ignore his very hot face and the skittery, nervy sensation in his gut and muttered, “Yeah, I still don’t get that. Why me?”  
  
“Did I not just explain?” Chase wondered incredulously.  
  
“No, I… You did, I guess, I just…” He was painfully aware that he was making very little sense and it only made him flounder harder for words he didn’t have. He pulled his hand out of Chase’s to ruffle his hair, completely frustrated with his uncooperative tongue.  
  
But somehow, again, Chase seemed to miraculously understand.  
  
“Ah,” he said, leaning back from Jack slightly. “That’s right, I remember now. You think yourself ‘freakish.’”  
  
Jack flinched.  
  
“You think that you’re so strange that to be called beautiful is only ever a joke; that someone as weak and defective as you isn’t _good enough_ for someone like me.”  
  
Every word wound Jack’s shoulders up tighter, the effect of hearing his innermost fears announced with dispassion like exposing him was something Chase could just _do_ whenever he wanted, easily and thoughtlessly.  
  
Except then, instead of driving a knife into that vulnerable spot, Chase did something else.  
  
“I don’t agree,” he said.  
  
“…You don’t?”  
  
“No. Of course I don’t. I think that when it comes to matters like this, you’ve been told too many times, in so many ways that you’re not worthy, and that you’ve even started to believe it—”  
  
_Ouch. Accurate._  
  
“—but it isn’t true. If there was really nothing about you worthy of attention, I would never have been attracted to you in the first place.”  
  
Jack huffed, angling his face away. “How can you _know_ that?” he snapped. God knows _he’d_ had his fair share of regrettable passions that, with a little time and distance, were completely unredeemable. How could Chase be so _sure_?  
  
“Because that’s who I am,” Chase insisted. “I don’t have my head turned by pretty faces,” and his hand left Jack’s knee to light on his chin, punctuating his words by bringing him back around. “I _never_ have. It takes a person to do that, an _exceptional_ one. Like you.”  
  
Suddenly, Jack’s eyes were stinging in a way that felt appallingly like tears and he blinked rapidly for a few seconds trying to head them off.  
  
He felt a little pathetic for…reacting…so strongly, but it was hardly his fault that nobody had ever said something so _nice_ to him, or that it was coming from somebody whose opinion he valued so highly.  
  
_Exceptional._ That was…  
  
Wow…  
  
Through a tight throat, Jack choked out a weak, “So you _don’t_ think I have a pretty face then?”  
  
A short chuckle, low and warm, made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.  
  
“Oh, Jack,” Chase said softly, “you have _many_ pretty things. The point is that I’d like to explore _all_ of them.”  
  
Chase wasn’t touching him anymore, not physically, but somehow when Jack hadn’t been paying attention the distance between them had closed and could hardly be called respectable anymore.  
  
And with Chase looking at him like that, saying those things, Jack was starting to forget why he was supposed to care about ‘respectable.’  
  
“I… That’s…” He shook his head, valiantly struggling for focus. “No. No, there’s still—”  
  
“The future?” Chase finished for him. “Yes, I know.”  
  
“Then you know why it doesn’t matter what I—what you want to do,” Jack exclaimed. “It could screw up the future! Yours _and_ mine! It’s a pretty good future, I don’t… I thought you wanted it too, and that’s why we weren’t talking about this.”  
  
“I do want it. That’s why I’ve held my tongue as long as I have. But we don’t have to wait any longer; you agreed.”  
  
“And when did I do that, exactly?”  
  
“When you arrived.”  
  
Jack scrolled backwards in his head, trying to remember what he’d said to Chase that could have translated to ‘Screw the future, anyway, how bad could it be?’ but Chase filled in the missing piece for him.  
  
“You agreed with me that the timeline has stabilized,” he said. “Everything in the here and now matches with your recall of your future. Your words: everything’s perfect.” And then he smirked, teasing, “ _I’m_ perfect, you almost said.”  
  
Jack grimaced and stared at his feet. _So he **did** catch that._  
  
“That’s a good thing, Jack,” the other man said with a conviction Jack envied and tried to find in himself. “I am as I’m meant to be in the future you know and nothing can change that.”  
  
True. True, true, true, Jack _had_ agreed with that earlier and it seemed just as unimpeachably logical now as then.  
  
And now that the seed had been planted, he was thinking.  
  
_How bad **could** it be?_  
  
A dangerous line of thinking to be sure, but…maybe not as much anymore?  
  
Future Chase and Current Chase were identical. They looked the same, spoke the same, _acted_ the same… And of course they lived in the same place with the same minions, and wealth, and power.  
  
The only difference between Future Chase and Current Chase that Jack could see was that one of them actually liked him back, and if Jack’s experience had taught him anything, that was a totally temporary state.  
  
Why _shouldn’t_ he take advantage of that while he could? Was there even a reason?  
  
The attention Chase was giving him certainly wasn’t swaying him otherwise, a powerful arm wrapping around Jack’s shoulders and nudging him towards the heat of the dragonlord’s body.  
  
“There is nothing of your future that this,” a slow stroke along his forearm, “can jeopardize. Unless,” Chase added lightly, “you think you might somehow get me pregnant.”  
  
The joke startled a short laugh out of Jack and he found himself leaning ever so slightly into Chase. “Hah. No, obviously that’s…no.”  
  
“So then, what’s the harm?”  
  
In sex? In gay, perfectly non-reproductive sex that would probably just be a one-off anyway?  
  
_What a great question. I’m not seeing any,_ and what a thrill _that_ was to realize.  
  
Jack’s heart started beating faster and not only from Chase’s proximity, for once.  
  
Still, out loud, he hesitated. “I don’t…”  
  
“I would have you, Jack,” Chase said, bold and plain. “And I know you would have me, too.”  
  
With mild chagrin and no further pretense of denial, Jack said, “Pretty sure of that, are you?”  
  
Chase seemed amused and brought him in just a little bit closer. “Yes. You’re not as subtle as you think you are; your body, even less.”  
  
Jack furrowed his brow in confusion. “My—?”  
  
“I didn’t realize it until Thessaly, if you can believe that. Before then, I suppose I simply hadn’t had the experience to know what it was, and why would I? I was human and a monk, and then I wasn’t either but I still had no context for that scent.”  
  
Jack startled, just a bit, when Chase reached over to him again and curled his long fingers around his jaw. The touch of them was feather-light and the heat of his broad palm under Jack’s chin was incredibly distracting in the best and worst of ways.  
  
“But then I went out and learned. And when I touched you,” Chase’s thumb dragged across Jack’s lower lip, and his breathing quickened, “just like this…you were aroused.”  
  
For a long, lagging moment, the words just plodded through Jack’s skull without comprehension.  
  
And then it clicked.  
  
Scent. Arousal. Chase had animal senses, he was talking about _pheromones._  
  
Chase had _known_ every single time Jack had been attracted to him.  
  
“Oh god,” he muttered, feeling faintly horrified as the blood drained from his face. “I… I’m sorry.”  
  
“I’m not,” Chase said. His hand lingered at Jack’s face before pulling back, as if to prove the point. “I couldn’t read you for a long time. You would respond to me, but then in the very next moment, you’d go cold. I knew the obvious answer,” the timeline, of course, “but I couldn’t be sure. And I couldn’t risk _anything_ until I was sure.”  
  
Jack remembered vividly the time in the forest, the war of alarm and disgust in Chase’s expression when he’d thought he’d touched Jack without his full consent.  
  
“Right. Yeah.”  
  
“It was very welcome information to find you _are_ attracted to me. And very flattering to know, in retrospect, how _often_ you’re attracted to me,” Chase added cheekily. “You’re aroused right now.”  
  
Incredible how quickly that blood was coming back. Jack tried looking down to hide his increasing embarrassment, but Chase must’ve seen anyway. The arm around him squeezed in a sort of half-hug and a kiss landed on his temple.  
  
At the very least, it made being red as a tomato drop down a few notches on his list of problems, now well beneath the fact that his insides had somehow melted into goo.  
  
“I promise you it’s mutual,” Chase told him warmly. “I’m very fond of you, as well.”  
  
Jack managed a smile. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yes. I’ve been seducing you all evening. I’ve been planning this since I last saw you over four-hundred years ago. Do you think I’ve done any of this lightly?”  
  
Jack saw the look on Chase’s face. “No. No, I guess you wouldn’t.”  
  
Taking a moment to just breathe, Jack met Chase’s eyes, trying to think except it was so hard to stay on target with impulsive thoughts poking in unasked.  
  
_Kiss him,_ was the hardest to ignore because it felt like the most natural thing in the world to do right now.  
  
Why was he still hesitating? He wanted this. _Chase_ wanted this. They were both rational, consenting adults who liked each other and would doubtlessly like touching each other just as much, and the timeline would probably be just fine for it.  
  
_Oh. Right. It’s that fucking ‘probably.’_  
  
A frustrated noise escaped his throat as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “Chase. I just… We’re on the same page here, finally; I get what you’re saying and…” He took a deep breath. “You’re right. I do want…this.”  
  
Jack didn’t have to look, Chase’s smug grin was practically tangible and he rushed forward before he could say a word.  
  
“But what if it’s _not_ safe?” he demanded. “What if we…and it _does_ screw something up?”  
  
The hand around his arm began stroking, slow and unmistakably affectionate.  
  
“I don’t believe it will,” Chase said gently. “I’ve outlined my reasons already. But ultimately, it is your choice.”  
  
_And my existence on the line if I screw up,_ a traitorous part of his brain muttered.  
  
Clearly still seeing his hesitation, Chase sighed lightly. “Jack, has it occurred to you that the spell that brought you here is Xiaolin in origin?”  
  
Considering it had been a Xiaolin master monk who’d cast it? “Yeah…”  
  
“And being Xiaolin, how dangerous do you think it could be to you?” Chase wondered. “Do you really think _white magic_ could destroy you?”  
  
Jack drew up short. He’d never considered _that_ before.  
  
“I’ve seen Xiaolin spells. Their authors are always disproportionately concerned with safety. As a discipline, Heylin magic expects its wielders to be experts and to determine the consequences for themselves but Xiaolin…it panders to the uninformed.”  
  
“Kid gloves,” Jack muttered, only half-listening now as he processed this new perspective.  
  
Luckily Chase took the meaning of his phrase correctly without needing clarification. “Exactly. The monks who create these spells expect or at least allow for the possibility that they will be used by children, who need endless caveats and guidelines.”  
  
Jack knew firsthand that was true. He’d been snooping in the temple archives dozens of times and seen hundreds of spell scrolls and not a single one he’d seen had been anywhere close to ‘brief.’  
  
In fact, some of the heavier duty magicks were even protected, written piecemeal so that they _seemed_ coherent, but wouldn’t function unless you could also decode the subtle hieroglyphs within the characters that explained the rest of it.  
  
Years of eavesdropping had eventually helped Jack figure out that it was a cipher taught only to those who achieved the rank of Master Monk— which had been years too late to stop Jack because at the time he had been a curious and very bored twelve-year-old genius and had puzzled it out in a week.  
  
But that was beside the point.  
  
The point was that Chase was right yet again, telling him, “It’s incredibly unlikely that a Xiaolin spell you were drawn into _on accident_ could do anything to hurt you. The only thing you need be concerned with is the changed future and as I’ve pointed out, there’s not much you can do to it _now._ ”  
  
“Yeah… Yeah,” with growing confidence, “that’s true.”  
  
“That said. If you can sit beside me like this, with my hands on your body,” and the palm on his thigh was back, in lovely counterpoint to the one still stroking his arm, “and _still_ say you’re too scared, you know I will leave you be. I swear that on my honor.”  
  
Even under the definite notes of flirting, Chase’s tone was too sincere for Jack to think otherwise. “I know,” he said.  
  
“So…” Chase’s eyes glinted in the light of the bedroom. “Will you push me away?”  
  
That impossible question again.  
  
And this time, Jack could give the answer he’d wanted to all along.  
  
Feeling crazy and stupid and impulsive and not caring even a little, Jack grabbed onto Chase and kissed him as hard as he could.  
  
It was a near thing that Jack didn’t just go limp when Chase kissed back instantly, the combination of relief and excitement that bubbled up heady enough to make him dizzy. Chase’s arms were suddenly twisting around him, dragging him in closer and Jack shivered, feeling caught in the _best_ way.  
  
The first brush of tongue against Jack’s lip was a jolt of electricity.  
  
He inhaled sharply and pulled back, just a little, breathing heavily. It seemed that Chase had managed to pull him all the way into his lap, so it was from straddling Chase’s thighs that he quipped, “You won’t take it personally that I can’t spend the night, will you?”  
  
Chase was grinning broadly at him, fangs clearly visible and catlike eyes glowing up at him. He looked possessively, delightedly wicked.  
  
“I’ll take you anyway,” he said. “For as long as I can keep you.”  
  
And then he leaned in for another kiss.  
  
This time, Jack didn’t hestitate to open for him, bracing his hands against pauldroned shoulders as Chase’s hot tongue slid in alongside his own. Jack moaned into his mouth and Chase growled, and then abruptly the metal beneath Jack’s fingers was only warm dark silk.  
  
Distantly, he realized Chase had magicked away his armor instead of bothering with the manual clasps and ties, and the knowledge that Chase was just as eager for this as he was lit a fire in him.  
  
Jack clung harder to Chase, reveling in the feel of all the newly exposed planes of the man’s body even as he fumbled for the fastening of his shirt, hoping to make them even _more_ exposed.  
  
Chase caught his hand and nipped his bottom lip. “Oh no,” he said in a low voice, dripping down Jack’s spine like molasses. “You will _not_ rush me, Jack. I’m going to take my time.”  
  
Jack shuddered and made a noise that sounded a little like ‘hngh.’  
  
In a whirl and a slow surrender to gravity, Jack found himself lowered onto the bed with careful tenderness that would have been a lot more touching if his heart hadn’t been picking up speed and directing bloodflow everywhere _but_ his brain.  
  
Naturally, _that_ part of him was thrilled when Chase crawled on top of him and sat astride his hips, staring down at him with undeniable hunger.  
  
“Do you have any idea what it was like?” he wondered. “The waiting?”  
  
Jack felt he had plenty of waiting of his own under his belt, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was argue. “Probably not,” he breathed, reaching up to pull Chase back onto him.  
  
But Chase was not to be moved. He planted one hand just beside Jack’s head and leaned over him, shading Jack’s face when his hair fell forward around them like a curtain. The fingers of his other hand lighted on Jack’s collarbone, trailing slowly downward.  
  
“And you, such a tease,” Chase purred, circling his own emblem on Jack’s chest. “Wearing the clothes I laid out for you…” He leaned in further, inhaling against his throat. “ _Smelling_ like me… You’ve been driving me crazy _all night._ ”  
  
Jack squeaked, unprepared for the drag of sharp teeth at the base of his neck.  
  
“You’re worse,” he gasped, Chase’s fingers finally slipping _into_ his clothing and opening it. “You’re so, so, so much worse, you did it on _purpose._ ”  
  
“I did,” Chase agreed. “I wanted to push you. I wanted to make this happen.” He paused, eyes roving over Jack’s bare torso.  
  
Jack had only half a second to wonder if he should start feeling self-conscious before Chase said, “So you _are_ this color all over. Gods, you’re beautiful.”  
  
Suddenly it seemed like a gross unfairness that Chase still had his shirt on. Jack finished shucking his own and got to tugging at Chase’s, grumbling, “Come _on,_ the last time I saw you shirtless you were a _monk,_ help me out here.”  
  
Chase laughed, “So impatient,” but he shrugged the silk off and cast it aside, exposing himself to Jack’s gaze.  
  
As before Jack was struck dumb by Chase’s utterly unfair physique, hard ridges where Jack had only flat planes; cords of muscle beneath fine golden skin that made Jack’s fingers _itch._  
  
He only snapped out of it when Chase moved again, bringing his lips up to Jack’s ear to whisper, “Go ahead. Touch me all you like.”  
  
Jack was pretty sure his hands reacted before he’d even fully processed the permission, grasping even as Chase slotted their mouths back together for a deep, sinful kiss.  
  
Chase was hot and solid beneath his roving palms, like living stone and the thought made Jack groan against his lips when Chase shifted, parting his legs with ease and settling firmly in between them.  
  
Chase was exactly where he ought to be and Jack wasn’t going _anywhere,_ anytime soon.  
  
The kiss broke when Chase’s mouth latched seamlessly onto Jack’s shoulder, freeing Jack’s up to babble.  
  
“God, fuck, Chase, I _wanted_ —”  
  
Chase, agreeably sucking a bruise into his flesh, only hummed in response and began pulling at their trousers.  
  
It was exactly what Jack wanted, fewer clothes, but suddenly it was very important that he explained, to make Chase understand the decreasingly coherent thoughts running through his head.  
  
“I _always_ wanted,” he huffed, helping kick off his pants, “so much, and I, you—”  
  
He cut off with a gasp as the movement brought his groin into delicious, perfect contact with Chase’s and nothing could’ve stopped him from bucking up again.  
  
Chase hissed, holding his hips down to the bed with one hand and okay, maybe _Chase_ could stop him, but Jack couldn’t think why he’d want to because that had only been a taste, how much better could _more_ be?  
  
“I _never_ thought,” Jack breathed fervently, verging on a whimper, “I never thought this could—”  
  
“Shhhhh,” Chase hushed him, cupping his face in both hands. His pupils were so blown that he looked almost human and Jack stilled to see it; to see how much Chase was right here with him.  
  
“It’s alright,” he promised. “We can have this.”  
  
Jack believed him. He believed him completely.  
  
He nodded jerkily and Chase’s hands left his face, one bracing against the mattress and the other slipping downwards in the narrow space between their bellies.  
  
Even expecting it, nothing could have prepared Jack for the touch of the firm, somehow wet hand on his cock, the very first that wasn’t his own and it was _amazing._  
  
His moan quickly turned into a yelp when he felt Chase’s erection, hot and hard thrusting up against his own, Chase expertly catching both of them in hand and the pressure alone was a million times better than anything Jack had done on his own.  
  
“Fuck,” he cursed, hips jerking, “fuck, let me—”  
  
But then Chase started moving and Jack was too overwhelmed to do anything, just barely able to kiss back when Chase claimed his mouth again in a rough, deep kiss. It felt like a barrage on his senses of friction and heat and slick and Jack’s pleasure spiraled faster than it ever had until he was coming hard embarrassingly soon, crying out against Chase’s lips.  
  
After that, Jack lost track of things for a bit. He felt Chase pull back and heard him snarl and then Chase was lying next to him, breathing heavily.  
  
Through the haze of post-orgasmic endorphins Jack stared at the ceiling as two things slowly dawned on him.  
  
_Holy crap, I just had sex with Chase Young,_ which was accompanied by a gleeful little burst of disbelieving satisfaction, and then several moments after that, _Wow, that was quick,_ which was a decidedly less gleeful revelation.  
  
“Sorry,” he blurted out, and was about to make excuses for himself when Chase startled him by laughing out loud.  
  
“You’re ridiculous,” Chase told him, sounding admittedly fond as he said it. “Are you _actually_ apologizing to me for an orgasm?”  
  
“What? No! I’m not…That’s not… It was just…” _supposed to last longer than that, right?_ At least the guys in porn did… But sprawled out next to his long-time idol and crush, first time lover, Jack couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words and ask that question.  
  
Thankfully, it seemed sex was something that put Chase in a good mood because he took pity on Jack. “You think you were the only one who enjoyed that?” he teased, sitting up beside him. “Or do you usually come that much on your own?”  
  
Jack glanced down at where Chase gestured, to the cooling mess on his stomach, and it was definitely…more than his usual. Sure enough, Chase’s (impressive) length was just as soft as his.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
_I did that,_ he thought in disbelief. Then again with considerable pride, _I did that._  
  
“That was…” he went to say, but then stalled out for an appropriate adjective. There were _so many_ he could use for what had just happened, but none of them seemed to capture what he wanted to say.  
  
“Worth the wait?”  
  
_That. Yes._  
  
“Yeah,” Jack said softly, with more honesty than he usually gave anything. “Definitely.”  
  
And then naturally, the sheer candor of the admission made him feel more vulnerable than being post-coitally nude next to an immortal dragonlord and Jack had to immediately cover it with something lighter.  
  
“I don’t suppose you could find me a towel somewhere around here?” he asked with a pageant-worthy grin.  
  
“Hmmm, I could,” Chase mused, lounging on his side. “But why would I?”  
  
Jack blinked. “Uh. To…clean this off?”  
  
“Jack… You are laboring under _quite_ the misapprehension.”  
  
“I am?”  
  
“Yes. You seem to think I’m done with you already.” Chase’s grin was a shark-smile. “Far from it.”  
  
Jack caught the meaning clearly, but his reply was considerably less clear. “Oh. _Oh,_ you… Oh.”  
  
Surprisingly, it didn’t make Chase retract his statement. Instead he chuckled and said, “Yes, Jack, _oh._ And don’t worry too much about the mess. I can think of a few ways to tidy up that are far more…entertaining than a towel.”  
  
Jack opened his mouth to ask, but Chase was already getting up, prowling back over to his side of the bed and hovering above him. Then his head was lowering and—  
  
Jack’s eyes widened. That was _definitely_ a tongue.  
  
_Shit,_ he thought with delight, _I am in way over my head._  
  
And for once, Jack didn’t mind in the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, most of that long wait? Was this chapters fault, for the record. It gave me a lot of trouble but in the end, I think it was worth it! XD
> 
> As for the flowers that appeared in Chase's garden, we have:
> 
> \- [Aster](http://clipartzebra.com/images/1/aster-flower/aster-flower-04.jpg), representing patience
> 
> \- Carnations of [light red](http://www.flowerspictures.org/image/flowers/carnations/thumbs/51_bright-light-red-carnation.jpg) and [dark red](http://www.theflowersociety.com/images/flowers/carnations-red.jpg), symbolizing pride, love, and admiration
> 
> \- [Lily of the valley](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1a/Convallaria_majalis_0002.JPG) for the return of happiness
> 
> \- [Daisies](http://dreamatico.com/data_images/daisy/daisy-6.jpg) meaning loyal love and new beginnings
> 
> \- And finally, [amaryllis](http://static1.1.sqspcdn.com/static/f/572143/21084953/1353983360537/amaryllis-white-red.jpg?token=4vmo408Vtdo8sEZ6yOyXcDuKLLg%3D) for worth beyond beauty
> 
> So there you are, everybody! What you've all (presumably) been waiting for! The idiots have finally talked to each other and worked it out. 
> 
> Again, my apologies for taking so damn long to get this update out, but thank you all for sticking with me and continuing to comment on the fic and letting me know how much you wanted me to continue it, it was really inspiring to see those comments (and [fanart](http://c2ndy2c1d.deviantart.com/art/JUNKMIXES-565682042), you're amazing c2ndy2c1d!) when I couldn't make myself write. <3
> 
> That said, there's plenty more of this fic to come so I hope you'll all continue to stick with me, even when I'm terrible at updating, because this fic will never be an abandoned WIP!
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! :D


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